I-  I  a.  4 


LAST  FAIRY  TALES 


BY 

EDOUARD   LABOULAYE 

AUTHOR  OF  "FAIRY  BOOK,"  "PARIS  IN  AMERICA,"  "  PRINCE  CANICHE" 
'*  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


AUTHORIZED    TRANSLATION 

BY 

MARY  L.  BOOTH 

TRANSLATOR  OF  LABOULAYE's,  MARTIN's,  DE  GASPARTn's,  AND  COCHIn's  WORKS,  ETC 
AUTHcJr  of  the  "  HISTORY  OF  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK  " 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1884,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERIC/ 
D-8 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE, 


When  we  were  children  (which  was  somewhere  about 
1820),  we  were  presented  with  fairy  tales  at  New- Year 
for  our  amusement.  By  whom  they  were  written  mattered 
little;  provided  they  kept  us  still  for  an  hour  without  quar 
relling  or  breaking  things,  the  book  was  thought  a  good  one, 
and  nothing  more  was  asked  of  the  author. 

Since  that  time  a  great  change  has  taken  place.  Fairy 
tales  now  hold  a  prominent  place  in  literature.  Like  great 
noblemen,  they  have  their  pedigree  and  history.  They  treat 
of  geography,  astronomy,  and  zoology,  and  will  very  soon 
include  philosophy  and  religion.  Analysis  has  appeared ; 
farewell  to  jollity.  An  ancient  muse,  of  whom  we  must  speak 
no  ill,  because  she  is  a  lady,  and  of  uncertain  age,  and  also 
because  she  is  too  often  in  the  right — Science,  since  we  must 
call  her  by  her  name — with  her  long  fingers,  hooked  nose,  a»d 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE, 


When  we  were  children  (which  was  somewhere  about 
1820),  we  were  presented  with  fairy  tales  at  New- Year 
for  our  amusement.  By  whom  they  were  written  mattered 
little;  provided  they  kept  us  still  for  an  hour  without  quar 
relling  or  breaking  things,  the  book  was  thought  a  good  one, 
and  nothing  more  was  asked  of  the  author. 

Since  that  time  a  great  change  has  taken  place.  Fairy 
tales  now  hold  a  prominent  place  in  literature.  Like  great 
noblemen,  they  have  their  pedigree  and  history.  They  treat 
of  geography,  astronomy,  and  zoology,  and  will  very  soon 
include  philosophy  and  religion.  Analysis  has  appeared ; 
farewell  to  jollity.  An  ancient  muse,  of  whom  we  must  speak 
no  ill,  because  she  is  a  lady,  and  of  uncertain  age,  and  also 
because  she  is  too  often  in  the  right — Science,  since  we  must 
call  her  by  her  name — with  her  long  fingers,  hooked  nose,  a»d 


vin 


Author  s  Preface, 


great  round  goggles,  is 
prying  into  everything. 
We  can  no  longer  laugh 
at  an  ogre  without  being 
lacking  in  respect  to  the 
god  Orcus  ;  Riquet  with 
CY^f^^lTfii'^A'^y  \  the  Tuft  is  nothing  but 
i/^    \Wt^yW.C^Tv  the  Winter  Solstice;  and 

the  White  Cat,  in  her 
enchanted  castle,  is  the 
nymph  Calisto,  or,  rath- 
er, the  Great  Bear  in  per- 
son. A  plague  on  our 
^-^     ^.    ^<Jf^  s  "^""^  grandnephews;  they  are 

<^       **'*'^  too  wise  for  us  old  fel- 

lows! 
For  my  part,  I,  too,  could  invent  theories  as  well  as  others, 
if  I  saw  fit.  With  the  protection  and  support  of  a  respect- 
able political  coterie  I  should  stand  a  good  chance  of  ad- 
mission to  the  Academy  of  Mother  Goose ;  for  I  have  her 
blood  in  my  veins.  I  know  what  fairy  tales  are.  I  have 
tried  to  make  them,  and  have  thereby  learned  a  great  truth, 
namely,  that  these  tales  are  not  manufactured  to  order.  The 
brightest  man  is  put  to  his  wit's  end  when  he  undertakes  the 
task.  At  most,  he  invents  some  allegory  as  innocent  as  it  is 
transparent ;  he  tells  a  story  at  which  he  himself  is  the  first 
to  laugh,  and  which  does  not  for  an  instant  beguile  his 
readers,  however  young.  I  therefore  hold  it  as  a  maxim 
that  the  more  sense  a  man  has,  the  more  insipid  and  tedious 
are  his  fairy  tales. 


Author  s  Preface, 


IX 


"  But,  grandpapa,"  says 
my  little  grandson,  "your 
stories  are  very  amusing." 

'•''  Sanda  simplicitas  !  If 
my  stories  are  amusing,  as 
you  say,  it  is  because  I  did 
not  make  them,  my  child." 

"Then  who  did  make 
them,  grandpapa?" 

"  My  child,  I  have  taken 
them  by  piecemeal  from  all 
parts,  North,  South,  and 
elsewhere." 

"  But  who  invented  them 
in  the  South  ?" 

"  Everybody  and  nobody, 
my  young  critic.  A  fairy 
tale  is  a  story,  a  legend,  or 
an  event  that  chances  to  be  told  of  a  winter's  evening  by 
some  soldier  or  sailor,  who  dresses  it  up  to  suit  himself,  re- 
gardless of  time  or  place.  Then  it  is  caught  up  by  nurses 
and  sung  to  children  to  amuse  them  or  to  serve  as  a  lullaby, 
until  at  last  some  one  with  a  poetic  imagination  gives  it  a 
fantastic  turn,  when  lo  !  the  fairy  tale  is  brought  forth.  The 
author  is  nameless  and  unknown ;  the  work  is  immortal. 
Who  would  dare  claim  the  paternity  of  Cinderella  and  Tom 
Thumb  ?" 

Stranger  still,  the  fairy-tale  has  no  native  land,  any  more 
than  it  has  an  author.  Every  nation  tells  Little  Red  Riding 
Hood  in  its  own  fashion,  and  it  would  take  a  sharp  critic  to 


Author  s  Preface. 


discover  the  original  text  of  all  these  versions.  The  canvas 
is  of  no  consequence,  the  embroidery  is  everything ;  and  this 
embroidery  changes  with  each  century. 

What  is  Puss  in  Boots,  for  example  ?  A  good  genius,  in 
the  skin  of  an  animal,  that  enriches  his  young  master.  The 
idea  might  occur  a  hundred  times  in  different  countries, 
trivial  and  insignificant  as  it  is.  Now,  compare  Perrault's 
Puss  in  Boots  with  the  version  of  the  Pentameron,  which 
will  be  found  in  the  present  volume,  with  some  other  old 
friends  under  new  faces.  Perrault  was  but  a  child  when 
Gianbattista  Basilio  died,  and,  in  all  probability,  never  heard 
of  *be  Neapolitan  tales.     Yet  here  is  the  same  story  told  in 


Author's  Preface, 


XI 


two  different  countries.  The  idea  is  the  same,  and  the  de- 
tails resemble  each  other ;  but  what  a  difference  there  is 
between  the  two  stories !  With  Perrault  the  work  is  fan- 
tastic, the  result  of  a  cat's  caprice.  With  Basilio  it  is  a  moral 
tale,  designed  as  a  lesson  to  ingrates.  And  now,  where  is 
the  primitive  story  to  be  found?  Perchance  it  may  yet  be 
discovered  in  India ;  but  we  may  be  sure  that  it  will  have 
been  so  often  retold  and  transformed  on  its  way  that  it  can 
only  be  discerned  by  the  sharp  eye  of  an  expert  in  fairy  lore. 


Paris,  1883. 


Edouard  Labc^ulaye. 


TRANSLATORS  PREFACE. 


This  compilation  contains  all  the  fairy  tales  written  by 
the  lamented  Edouard  Laboulaye,  that  prince  of  story-tell- 
ers and  most  eloquent  of  statesmen,  from  the  publication  of 
his  Fairy  Book,  several  years  ago,  to  the  time  of  his  death, 
last  year.  The  brilliant  Professor  of  the  Institute  of  France, 
whose  lively  sympathy  during  the  late  civil  war  won  him 
<:)ur  country's  love  and  gratitude,  found  recreation  from  his 
graver  labors  in  narrating  these  fanciful  stories,  overflowing 
with  wit  and  humor,  which  delighted  both  old  and  young, 
and  this  task  he  continued  to  his  dying  day,  the  preface  to 
the  volume  containing  part  of  the  tales  found  herein  be- 
ing his  last  work,  and  the  touching  dedication  to  his  little 
grandchildren  bearing  date  only  five  days  before  his  death. 

M.  Laboulaye  always  delighted  in  seeing  his  writings  in 
an  English  dress,  and  took  keen  pleasure  in  the  interest  and 
appreciation  of  his  American  readers.  This  translation  is 
made  with  his  authorization,  and  the  subsequent  kind  ap- 
proval of  his   family.     Death   alone  prevented  him   from 


xiv  Translators  Preface, 

furnishing  to  this  volume,  as  he  did  to  the  last,  a  pref- 
ace especially  addressed  to  American  children.  It  is  sad 
to  think  that  these  pages  will  never  meet  his  kindly  eye, 
and  that  the  pen  which  had  such  power  to  charm  is  laid 
aside  forever. 

Those  who  remember  the  publication  by  Harper  &  Broth- 
ers of  that  sparkling  collection  of  stories,  Laboulaye's  Fai- 
ry Book,  know  what  2l  furore  it  created,  not  only  among 
the  children,  who  were  fascinated  with  its  giants,  fairies,  and 
hobgoblins,  but  still  more  among  their  elders,  who  were 
charmed  with  the  flashing  wit  and  keen  satire  which  leav- 
ened every  page,  and  which,  to  the  writer^s  personal  knowl- 
edge, beguiled  the  Vice-President  of  the  United  States,  as 
well  as  the  president  of  one  of  our  largest  banking  institu- 
tions, into  sitting  up  nearly  all  night  to  finish  the  volume. 

The  present  collection  is  even  richer,  wittier,  and  more 
varied  than  its  predecessor.  It  is  compiled  from  the  differ- 
ent works  of  M.  Laboulaye,  and  contains  all  the  children's 
tales  not  included  in  the  first  Fairy  Book.  And  what  a 
wealth  is  there  of  fantastic  stories  of  enchantments  that  rival 
the  Arabian  Nights,  together  with  delightful  apologues,  and 
old  tales  retold  with  a  bewitching  humor  that  gives  them  a 
new  charm,  all  narrated  with  a  purity  and  high  moral  tone 
that  make  them  safe  as  well  as  amusing  reading  for  the 
young!  Children  will  be  enchanted  with  this  new  Fairy 
Book,  which  is  sure  to  hold  a  lasting  place  in  their  affections 
for  this  and  succeeding  generations.  But  the  truest  appre- 
ciation, after  all,  of  this  witty  volume  will  come  from  the 
adults,  who,  as  they  laugh  at  its  diverting  sallies,  will  breathe 
a  sigh  in  memory  of  the  author,  and  rejoice  at  the  opportu- 


Translator's  Preface, 


XV 


nity  to  lay  a  leaf  on  the  grave  of  one  of  the  most  ardent 
friends  of  our  Union  in  its  hour  of  peril. 

Mention  should  be  made  of  the  very  lavish  manner  in 
which  the  volume  is  illustrated,  which  makes  it  a  genuine 
picture-book.  It  is  literally  crammed  with  nearly  three 
hundred  spirited  drawings  by  the  brilliant  French  artists, 
Henri  Pill^,  Henri  Manesse,  Yan'  Dargent,  and  the  lately 
deceased  Henri  Scott,  some  of  whose  last  designs  are  here 
included. 

Mary  L.  Booth. 

New  York,  1884. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE   THREE   WONDERS  OF   THE  WORLD I 

THE    FAIRY    CRAWFISH 39 

FRAGOLETTE 65 

THE  THREE   WISHES 88 

THE   GOLDEN    FLEECE 94 

POOR   HANS 117 

ZERBINO   THE   SAVAGE , I20 

THE   SHEPHERD  PACHA       .      .      .      .      » 155 

BRIAM    THE    FOOL I78 

THE   LITTLE   GRAY   MAN I9I 

GAGLIUSO;    OR,  THE   GOOD   CAT 209 

THE   WOLF    AND   THE   GOAT 221 

THE   WICKED    DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW 230 

THE   SPINNING   QUEEN ,      .      .       .    236 

THE    KING   OF   THE   SERPENTS 24O 

POUCINET 247 

THE   PRUDENT  FARMER 279 

A    FEMALE   SOLOMON 284 

DAME   GUDBRAND 29O 


xviii  Contents, 

FAGB 

GRIZZLED    PETER 303 

THE   tailor's   daughter -312 

DAME   WEASEL   AND   HER    HUSBAND 314 

THE   sun's   daughter 316 

THE    LITTLE   MAN 325 

FALSEHOOD   AND   TRUTH 33 1 

THE   MYSTIC  GARDEN 338 

THE    EVE   OF   ST.   MARK       .  35 1 


'"^-^^ 


THE   THREE   WONDERS 

OF  THE   WORLD. 

I. 

NCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a 
queen  who  had  three  sons. 
The  eldest  was  named  Prince 
Lofty ;  the  second,  Prince 
Reckless ;  and  the  third, 
Prince  Prosper.  All  three 
were  as  beautiful  as  the  day ; 
all  three  adored  their  mother; 
and  all  three  took  the  great- 
est delight  in  forestalling  her 
wishes  and  doing  her  will. 
The  queen  must  have  been 
very  happy,  one  would  sup- 
pose. She  was,  as  a  mother, 
but  not  as  a  woman.  She 
was  a  prey  to  a  malady  which 
none  of  us  can  escape,  and 
which  is  called  old  age.  When  she  looked  in  the  mirror, 
the  horrible  grimness  which  years  had  stamped  upon  hei 
1 


\I^f^i':Fci^y  Tales, 


face  made  her  turn  pale  with  dread.  Her  white  hair,  her 
wrinkled  forehead,  her  toothless  gums,  and  her  watery  eyes 
all  told  her  that  she  must  die. 

The  poor  queen  was  terribly  afraid  of  death.  She  could 
not  be  resigned  to  quit  her  children,  her  throne,  and  her 
people.  Her  sons  sought  in  vain  to  comfort  her ;  the  more 
they  loved  her,  the  less  courage  she  had  to  bid  them  an  eter- 
nal farewell. 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,  3 

One  day  they  heard,  I  know  not  how,  that  the  King  of  the 
Bitter  Waters  had  a  wonderful  bird,  whose  warbling  renewed 
the  youth  of  those  over  whose  heads  it  sung.  The  most 
marvellous  tales  were  told  concerning  this  peerless  songster. 
One  day,  it  was.  said,  a  minister  of  state,  ninety  years  old, 
who  chanced  to  pass  under  the  tree  where  this  marvel  was 
singing,  instantly  became  rejuvenated  to  such  a  degree  that 
he  had  to  be  carried  away  in  a  nurse's  arms.  What  would 
not  the  good  queen  have  given  to  hear  these  heavenly  songs, 
had  she  been  made  only  twenty  or  thirty  years  younger 
thereby ! 

The  three  brothers  consulted  together.  The  eldest  in- 
sisted on  being  the  first  to  go  in  search  of  this  wonderful 
bird.  The  queen  refused  her  consent.  "  It  is  for  you,  my 
children,"  she  said,  "that  I  wish  to  live.  If  one  of  you 
should  perish  in  this  undertaking,  nothing  would  be  left  me 
but  to  die.     Stay  with  me,  and  let  God's  will  be  done  !" 

Prince  Lofty,  however,  was  not  one  to  be  dismayed.  Tak- 
ing a  good  horse,  arms,  and  money,  he  told  his  brothers  that 
if  he  did  not  return  within  a  year  they  might  know  that  he 
was  dead  or  a  prisoner,  embraced  his  mother,  and  set  out 
on  his  way.  He  went  straight  onward  till  he  reached  the 
city  where  dwelt  the  happy  owner  of  the  wonderful  bird. 
Here  he  found  an  inn,  and  inquired  what  truth  there  was  in 
the  story. 

"All  you  have  heard  is  true,"  answered  the  host,  "but  the 
whole  truth  has  not  been,  told  you.  The  King  of  the  Bitter 
Waters  is  a  treacherous  and  cruel  magician.  No  one  who 
has  entered  his  palace  has  ever  come  out  again.  If  you 
have  kindred  and  friends,  handsome  youth,  do  not  attempt 
a  perilous  enterprise,  in  which  you  will  succeed  no  better 
than  those  who  have  gone  before  you." 

Lofty  thanked  the  host,  put  his  horse  in  the  stable,  supped 


4  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

heartily,  went  to  bed,  and  had  the  most  delightful  dreams. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  repaired  to  the  king's  palace. 
The  door  was  wide  open  ;  neither  guards  nor  servants  were 
to  be  seen.  Lofty  mounted  the  staircase  without  meeting 
any  one,  pushed  open  a  door,  and  entered  a  vast  hall,  sur- 
rounded with  marble  statues  of  helmeted  knights  of  all 
nations,  vizors  down  and  swords  in  hand.  In  the  middle 
of  the  hall  were  hundreds  of  cages  with  the  most  beautiful 
birds  imaginable.  One  of  these,  all  of  gold,  especially  struck 
the  prince's  eye.  "That  must  be  the  wonderful  bird," 
thought  he.  He  called  aloud,  and  knocked  at  all  the  doors, 
but  no  one  answered.  Then,  without  thinking  of  harm,  he 
approached  the  golden  cage  and  thrust  his  hand  into  it,  upon 
which  a  bell  rang.  One  of  the  statues  descended  from 
its  pedestal,  advanced  slowly  towards  the  young  man,  and 
touched  him  with  the  point  o^  his  sword,  when,  lo !  Lofty 
was  turned  into  a  statue. 

IL 

One  month,  two  months,  passed  away,  the  year  finished  its 
course,  and  the  queen  had  no  news  of  her  son.  Consumed 
with  grief,  she  wept  without  ceasing,  saying  over  and  over 
she  had  sent  her  son  to  his  death.  The  two  brothers  were 
no  less  grieved  than  their  mother.  Reckless  went  to  the 
queen  and  said,  "  Do  not  weep,  dear  mother.  I  am  going 
in  search  of  Lofty,  who  is  doubtless  a  prisoner.  You  may 
be  sure  that  I  shall  soon  bring  him  back  to  you,  with  the 
wonderful  bird  into  the  bargain." 

The  unhappy  queen  vainly  entreated  her  son  to  stay  with 
her ;  the  prince's  honor  forbade  him  to  listen  to  counsels  or 
prayers.  Furnished  with  a  good  horse  and  a  well-filled 
purse,  he  set  out  and  went  straight  onward  until  he  reached 
the  same  inn  where  his  elder  brother  had  stopped.     It  was 


*'  He  entered  a  vast  hall,  surrounded  with  marble  statues.' 


6  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

in  vain  that  the  host  lavished  advice  upon  him  ;  this  was 
not  the  time  to  think  of  prudence.  Reckless  hastened  to 
the  deserted  palace,  mounted  the  staircase,  entered  the  great 
hall,  and  was  about  to  lay  hold  of  the  bird,  when  the  bell 
rang,  the  statue  descended  from  its  pedestal  and  touched 
him  as  it  had  his  brother;  and,  lo  !  he,  too,  was  enchanted. 

III. 

One  month,  two  months  passed  away,  the  year  finished  its 
course,  and  the  queen  had  no  news  of  her  two  sons.  She 
was  plunged  in  grief,  and  longed  to  die.  Prosper  fell  on 
his  knees.  "  Do  not  despair,  dear  mother,"  he  cried.  "  Let 
me  go  and  I  will  succeed.  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  soon  bring 
back  both  my  brothers  and  the  wonderful  bird." 

"  You  shall  not  go,  my  child,"  said  the  poor  queen,  bathed 
in  tears;  "you  surely  would  not  add  to  my  sorrow  and  re~ 
morse.  If  you  forsake  me,  what  will  become  of  me,  with  no 
one  to  close  my  eyes  ?" 

But  Prosper  kissed  her  hands  so  tenderly  and  made  her 
such  fair  promises  that  she  was  forced  to  let  him  go.  He 
equipped  himself  like  his  brothers,  and  took  with  him  a 
sword  that  had  been  left  in  his  cradle  by  his  fairy  godmoth- 
er, a  friend  of  the  family,  whom  he  had  never  since  seen. 

He  set  out  on  his  journey,  followed  the  fatal  road,  reached 
the  city  of  the  King  of  the  Bitter  Waters,  stopped  at  the  inn, 
and  at  daybreak  went  to  the  deserted  palace.  On  entering 
the  great  hall,  he  saluted  the  green  bird  that  was  hopping 
about  behind  its  golden  bars,  then  called  aloud.  No  one 
answered.  He  drew  his  sword  and  approached  the  cage. 
The  bell  rang,  and  the  statue  descended  from  its  pedestal, 
sword  in  hand ;  but  the  prince  was  beforehand  with  his 
enemy,  and  dealt  his  weapon  such  a  blow  that  the  stone  was 
splintered  in  pieces. 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,  7 

The  statue  uttered  a  cry,  and  paused-.  A  second  knight 
descended  from  his  pedestal  and  was  received  in  the  same 
way.  A  third  and  fourth  met  the  like  fate.  At  this  moment 
a  door  opened,  and  a  host  of  soldiers  entered,  in  the  midst 
of  which  was  the  king  in  person.  He  was  a  fat,  little  old 
man,  with  a  huge  turban  on  his  head,  and  an  enormous 
scimitar  in  his  hand,  which  he  wielded  with  difficulty.  In  a 
shrill  voice,  which  he  vainly  tried  to  swell,  he  addressed  the 
young  prince.  "  Who  gave  you  permission  to  enter  my  royal 
palace  ?  Were  you  not  told  that  no  one  ever  quits  this  hall 
alive  ?" 

"  I  knew  it  well,"  answered  Prosper.  "If  I  have  confronted 
death,  great  prince,  it  was  not  to  brave  your  power.  It  was 
through  love  of  my  mother.  She  is  old,  and  yonder  bird 
can  restore  her  youth.  Before  touching  its  cage  I  knocked 
at  all  the  doors ;  I  am  not  a  robber,  and  respect  the  prop- 
erty of  others.  I  wished  to  offer  a  large  sum  for  this  wonder 
of  the  world,  but  could  obtain  no  answer.  How  then  am  I 
to  blame  ?  O  king,  if  you  have  a  mother  whom  you  love, 
be  indulgent  to  me  for  her  sake.  Fix  the  price  of  this  bird 
yourself,  and  all  that  I  have,  my  life  even,  is  yours." 

The  king  burst  out  laughing.  "Young  man,"  he  said, 
"you  are  a  simpleton.  Do  you  take  me  for  a  bird-seller? 
I  might  put  you  to  death,  but  I  pity  you.  I  like  courage, 
and  your  filial  love  touches  my  heart.  If  you  wish  for  the 
bird,  I  will  put  you  in  the  way  of  obtaining  it.  Two  days' 
journey  from  here  dwells  my  rival,  the  King  of  the  Green 
Isles,  who  has  a  daughter  whose  beauty  eclipses  any  ever 
beheld,  whence  she  is  called  The  Fairest  of  the  Fair.  This 
treasure  the  King  of  the  Green  Isles  guards  with  jealous 
care.  Find  her,  carry  her  off,  and  bring  her  here,  and  I 
will  give  you  the  green  bird  in  exchange  for  your  conquest. 
If  you  are  satisfied  with  the  bargain,  set  out  instantly.     You 


"  He  was  a  fat,  little  old  man,  with  a  huge  turban  on  his  head. 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World.  9 

may  leave  the  castle ;  but  remember  that  if  you  dare  to  re- 
turn empty-handed  you  will  perish,  like  all  before  you." 

IV. 

Prosper,  with  his  heart  full  of  hope,  accepted  the  king's 
conditions,  and  immediately  set  out  on  his  way.  After  two 
days'  journey  he  reached  the  shore  of  a  sea  as  blue  as  the 
heavens,  interspersed  with  islands  planted  with  tall  green 
trees,  which  rose  from  the  waters  like  great  clumps  of  verd- 
ure. At  the  west  was  the  royal  island,  the  residence  of  the 
princess.  Prosper  hastened  thither,  already  promising  him- 
self the  victory,  but  his  joy  was  of  short  duration. 

In  a  meadow,  surrounded  with  poplars  which  trembled  at 
the  lightest  breeze,  was  a  lake  as  smooth  as  a  mirror.  From 
the  midst  of  this  lake  rose  a  tower  a  hundred  feet  high,  with- 
out doors  or  windows,  made  of  a  single  sheet  of  glass.  In 
this  tower  was  imprisoned  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair.  How  it 
was  approached,  or  in  what  way  it  was  entered,  no  one  had 
ever  known.  It  was  vaguely  fancied  that  a  subterranean 
passage,  built  under  the  lake,  connected  the  tower  with  the 
royal  palace,  more  than  a  mile  distant.  But  no  one  had 
ever  seen  such  a  passage,  and,  when  it  was  talked  of,  the 
good  people  in  the  neighborhood  shook  their  heads.  Ac- 
cording to  them,  the  tower  was  enchanted,  and  opened  at 
night  at  the  sound  of  a  magical  word  which  was  known  to 
the  king  alone.  And  this  secret  was  well  guarded,  for  the 
prince  knew  to  a  certainty  that  the  fate  of  his  kingdom  was 
bound  up  with  that  of  this  crystal  donjon.  An  oracle  had 
foretold  that  on  the  day  his  daughter  quitted  the  prison 
the  tower  would  sink  beneath  the  waters,  carrying  with  it 
the  beautiful  kingdom  of  the  Green  Isles,  with  all  its  inhabi- 
tants. 

Prosper  skirted  the  lake  slowly,  carefully  noting  the  tower 


lo  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

which  glistened  in  the  midday  light  like  a  topaz  in  the  sun's 
rays.  The  walk  was  a  long  one  ;  it  took  the  prince  more 
than  five  hours  to  return  to  the  place  from  which  he  started. 
The  day  was  closing ;  the  tower,  colored  by  the  setting  sun, 
changed  to  a  ruby  tint.  Weary  with  the  journey  and  worn 
with  anxiety,  the  prince  alighted  from  his  horse,  seated  him- 
self on  a  hillock,  and  fell  into  a  reverie.  A  distant  clock 
struck  six.  Prosper  raised  his  head,  and  spied  a  figure  in 
white  between  the  battlements  of  the  tower.  It  was  the  Fair- 
est of  the  Fair.  The  last  rays  of  the  sun  gilded  the  fair  hair 
of  the  prisoner.  She  leaned  forward  to  look  over  the  plain, 
and  at  the  same  moment  there  was  heard  a  loud  sound  of 
men  and  horses.  It  was  the  princess's  suitors,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  march  past  at  the  hour  she  took  her  airing,  all 
striving  which  should  win  a  glance  of  her  beautiful  eyes. 

They  came  from  all  countries.  First  in  the  procession 
was  an  Indian  rajah,  clad  in  silk  and  gold,  with  a  neck- 
lace and  bracelets  of  pearls.  He  half  reclined  in  a  how- 
dah,  borne  by  a  huge  elephant,  buried  beneath  housings 
embroidered  with  precious  stones.  A  numerous  train  of 
musicians,  jugglers,  and  dancing-girls  surrounded  him  on  all 
sides,  singing  and  dancing  as  they  marched  along.  They 
paused  before  the  tower,  and  a  body  of  archers,  armed  with 
golden  bows,  let  fly  a  shower  of  arrows,  bearing  on  their 
points  wreaths  of  flowers,  gallant  mottoes,  and  fireworks  that 
blazed  in  the  air.  It  was  labor  lost;  the  arrows  struck  the 
walls  of  glass  with  a  dull  thud,  without  attracting  the  least 
notice  from  the  princess. 

Then  followed  a  second  caravan,  headed  by  a  Mantchoo 
prince,  who  came,  it  was  said,  to  ask  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair 
in  marriage  in  behalf  of  the  Emperor  of  China.  The  Tartar 
envoy,  whose  mustache  fell  to  his  knees,  was  mounted  on  a 
superb  black  horse,  whose  nostrils  snorted  fire.     He  was 


■M-") 


He  half  reclined  in  a  howdah,  borne  by  a  huge  elephant,'* 


1 2  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

followed  by  a  troop  of  soldiers  dressed  in  tiger  -  skins,  that 
marched  proudly  to  the  sound  of  trumpets ;  but  what  at- 
tracted most  attention,  and  what  certainly  had  never  been 
seen  in  our  western  armies,  was  a  new  kind  of  company, 
each  soldier  of  which  carried,  instead  of  a  shield,  an  immense 
kite,  in  the  shape  of  a  dragon.  On  the  belly  of  the  animal 
was  fastened  a  placard,  upon  which  a  skilful  pencil  had 
traced,  in  huge  red  letters,  verses  that  might  have  softened 
the  princess's  heart,  supposing  her  to  have  understood  Chi- 
nese. It  was  labor  lost ;  they  did  not  attract  the  least  notice 
from  the  princess. 

After  the  Chinese  came  a  troop  of  barbarians ;  a  genu- 
ine horde  of  Attila.  Dressed  in  wolf-skins,  they  resembled 
wolves,  with  their  howls,  gaunt  forms,  and  savage  gestures. 
At  a  signal  from  the  chief  they  opened  their  ranks,  to 
make  way  for  a  band  of  four  hundred  drummers,  who  in- 
stantly unchained  the  most  formidable  tempest  of  harmony 
that  the  world  had  ever  heard.  This  was  the  serenade 
devised  by  a  general  as  musical  as  he  was  gallant,  to  make 
a  striking  impression  on  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair.  He  suc- 
ceeded beyond  his  hopes,  for,  at  the  first  burst  of  thunder, 
the  princess  raised  her  hands  to  heaven,  stopped  her  ears, 
and  ran  away. 

V. 

The  crowd  had  vanished,  night  had  fallen,  and  the  moon 
shed  her  silver  light  on  the  tremulous  waters  of  the  lake, 
giving  it  by  turns  the  whiteness  and  changing  tints  of 
the  opal.  Yielding  to  the  neighing  of  his  horse,  that  was 
tired  of  being  alone.  Prosper  repaired  to  the  inn.  A  fire  of 
great  logs  was  blazing  in  a  huge  chimney-place  in  which  one 
might  stand  upright.  Chilled  by  the  night  air,  he  drew  near 
to  warm  himself,  when  he  spied  a  strange  object,  looking  like 


"He  was  followed  by  a  group  of  soldiers  dressed  in  tiger-skins," 


14 


Last  Fairy  Talcs. 


a  bundle  of  rags  that  had  been  flung  into  the  corner  of  the 
hearth.  As  he  gazed,  from  the  bundle  emerged  a  copper- 
colored  face,  round  eyes  with  red  eyelids,  a  nose  hooked  like 
a  parrot's  beak,  a  chin  whose  turned -up  point  seemed  to 


threaten  the  nose,  and  a  toothless  mouth  that  stretched  from 
ear  to  ear.  The  prince  recoiled  with  dismay,  when  this 
shapeless  mass  rushed  towards  him,  stretching  out  a  pair  of 
fleshless  arms,  and  the  witch — for  witch  it  surely  was — seized 
bis  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 


*'  He  spied  a  strange  object,  looking  like  a  bundle  of  rags.'* 


1 6  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

"  My  good  lord,"  said  she,  in  a  plaintive  voice,  "  do  not 
drive  me  away.  I  am  cold  and  hungry ;  if  you  have  a  moth- 
er, take  pity  on  the  wretchedest  of  women  for  her  sake." 

"Be  easy,  my  good  woman,"  answered  the  kind-hearted 
Prosper,  touched  by  his  mother's  name.  "You  have  nothing 
to  fear  from  me.  If  you  are  suffering,  I  can  at  least  relieve 
your  want."  And  he  opened  his  pouch,  and  flung  a  handful 
of  gold  into  the  lap  of  the  witch,  who  clutched  it  greedily. 
"  Yes,"  he  added,  "  be  happy,  good  dame.  It  is  enough  to 
have  one  unhappy  creature  in  the  house."  His  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  old  woman,  rising,  "  you  are  sorrow- 
ful. What  causes  your  sorrow — the  Fairest  of  the  Fair? 
You  love  her,  you  wish  to  carry  her  off,  and  you  are  in  de- 
spair because  you  are  unable  to  do  so.  It  is  the  disease  of 
the  country.  Tell  me  your  troubles ;  I  have  friends  every- 
where ;  among  the  small  and  the  great.  Perhaps  I  can 
help  you.  She  whom  you  have  befriended  is  not  ungrate- 
ful." 

Prosper  sat  down  by  the  table  where  his  supper  was  laid, 
and  told  her  his  story.  The  old  woman  took  a  seat,  with- 
out ceremony,  opposite  him,  and  listened  with  attention. 
"Very  well,"  said  she,  when  he  had  finished;  "you  are  a 
good  son,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  of  use  to  you.  Let  me 
drink  a  drop,  just  one  drop,  of  this  Canary,  to  refresh  my 
memory.     It  will  give  me  ideas." 

Upon  which  she  seized  the  bottle,  emptied  it  into  a  large 
goblet,  and  gulped  it  down  at  one  draught,  smacking  her 
lips  when  she  had  finished. 

"Confess,"  she  said,  "that  all  you  suitors — Indian,  Chi- 
nese, Tartar,  and  the  rest — have  very  little  imagination. 
There  is  but  one  way  of  entering  the  tower,  and  that  is  the 
only  one  you  have  never  thought  of." 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         1 7 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  the  prince. 

"  Guess !"  answered  she ;  "  and  meanwhile,  to  refresh  my 
poor  memory,  let  me  drink  another  drop,  just  a  drop,  of  this 
Canary." 

Upon  which  she  seized  another  bottle,  emptied  it  all  into 


the  great  goblet,  and  gulped  it  down  at  one  draught,  smack- 
ing her  lips  when  she  had  finished.  Then  she  turned  towards 
the  prince,  who  stood  aghast  at  this  conduct,  and  laughed  in 
his  face. 

"  Who  has  been  in  the  tower  ?    No  one,  you  tell  me.    You 
are  wrong.     I  see  the  swallows  go  in  there  every  moment, 


1 8  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

and  if  the  princess  does  not  take  care,  she  will  have  a  whole 
garrison  of  crows  on  her  hands." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,"  exclaimed  the  prince,  angrily, 
"that  some  crow  will  take  me  on  its  wings  and  fly  up 
there,  and  then  carry  me  off  with  my  booty  ?  You  are  mak- 
ing a  laughing-stock  of  me,  old  dame." 

"My  lord,"  returned  the  witch,  coldly,  "people  do  not 
make  a  laughing-stock  of  princes  before  their  faces.  I  am 
in  earnest ;  I  mean  that  you  should  go  up  there  on  horse- 
back, as  befits  a  noble  personage  like  yourself." 

"  On  horseback !  My  good  woman,  the  Canary  has  sharp- 
ened your  imagination  altogether  too  much ;  you  had  better 
hold  your  tongue,  and  sleep  it  off." 

"  Yes,  on  horseback,"  continued  the  old  woman.  "  Have 
you  never  heard  of  Pegasus,  and  of  the  hippogriff?  Are 
you  ignorant  of  history  ?  And  Bellerophon,  and  Perseus ; 
have  you  forgotten  them  ?  Cannot  you,  too,  deliver  the  new 
Andromeda?" 

And,  as  the  prince  shook  his  head, 

"  Know,"  she  said,  "  that  ten  leagues  from  here,  in  the 
stables  of  the  Marquis  of  Lindas  Piernas,  is  a  flying  horse 
named  Griffon,  that  would  make  nothing  of  carrying  you  to 
the  Fairest  of  the  Fair.  The  whole  secret  is  to  know  his 
language,  and  to  make  him  fly.  I  will  teach  you  his  lan- 
guage if  you  will  kiss  me  on  both  cheeks.  As  to  making 
him  fly,  that  is  another  matter  ;  for  this,  you  must  have  some- 
thing which  I  have  in  my  pocket,  and  which  I  will  give  you 
on  the  same  terms." 

She  thrust  her  hand  among  her  rags,  and  drew  out  a  mass 
of  chicken  bones,  frogs'  legs,  little  wax  figures,  long  needles, 
and  finally  a  broken  bit,  held  by  two  silken  cords.  "  Here 
it  is,"  said  she ;  "  the  noble  courser  can  only  endure  this  light 
rein." 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World.         1 9 

"  And  now,"  she  added,  simpering,  "  be  good-natured,  and 
give  me  a  kiss." 

The  prince  made  a  frightful  grimace,  which  he  tried  to 
hide  by  biting  his  lips ;  then,  shutting  his  eyes,  he  kissed  the 
old  woman  on  both  her  cheeks,  which  were  like  parchment. 


"  One  good  turn  deserves  another,"  said  the  witch,  and, 
approaching  him,  she  blew  into  his  mouth,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Nun  kannst  du  die  pferdische,  eselische, burschikosiche,  katzenjarri" 
merische  Sprache,  sprechen  und  verstehen." 

"  A  miracle  1"  cried  the  prince ;  "  I  hear  an  ass  braying  in 


20  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

the  yard,  and  this  is  what  he  says,  ^  Hi!  han!  men  are  even 
more  stupid  than  they  are  wicked.  Hi!  hanT  An  excel- 
lent thought,  and  well  worthy  of  an  ass !" 

"  Or  of  a  philosopher.  The  two  are  well  matched.  And 
now,  my  dear  prince,  do  you  want  the  bridle  ?" 

For  his  sole  answer.  Prosper  clasped  in  his  arms  the  old 
woman,  who  struggled  against  him.  "  Oh !  these  men  !"  she 
cried;  "how  beautiful  they  always  think  us  when  we  do 
as  they  wish !" 

But  the  prince  did  not  listen ;  he  was  so  happy  that  he 
kissed  her  frantically,  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  thought  her 
cheeks  as  fresh  as  at  twenty.  He  was  not  far  from  right,  for 
on  opening  his  eyes  he  saw  before  him,  instead  of  the  witch, 
a  charming  woman,  whose  smile  disclosed  teeth  of  dazzling 
whiteness.  He  attempted  to  thank  her  again,  but  she  gently 
retreated.  "That  is  enough,"  she  said,  "more  would  be 
showing  too  much  gratitude.  Adieu,  prince ;  it  is  well  to 
have  a  godmother  who  does  not  forget  you.  Have  courage 
and  hope  I" 

Like  a  gallant  knight,  the  prince  bent  his  knee  to  the 
ground ;  but  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  was  about 
to  protest  his  eternal  gratitude,  the  fairy  disappeared,  laugh- 
ing in  his  face.  It  appears  that  there  is  no  Academy  in  Fairy 
Land,  and  that  no  one  ever  speaks  there  when  he  has  noth- 
ing to  say. 

VI. 

At  daybreak  the  next  morning  Prosper  set  out  in  search 
of  the  famous  Griffon.  On  the  way  he  learned  that  the 
Marquis  of  Lindas  Piernas  would  allow  no  one  to  enter  his 
stables.  He  disguised  himself  as  a  groom,  and  applied  for 
employment  to  the  chief  equerry  of  the  marquis.  This  per- 
sonage, a  fat,  bow-legged,  red-nosed  man,  dressed  in  the  Span- 
ish fashion,  listened  contemptuously,  with  both  hands  thrust 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World.  2 1 

in  his  girdle,  and  answered  that  raw  louts  were  not  wanted 
in  the  marquis's  stables. 

"  Give  me  a  horse,"  cried  the  prince,  angrily,  "  and  see 
if  I  do  not  know  how  to  manage  him  better  than  all  your 
bearded  clowns." 

For  his  sole  answer  the  fat  man  turned  his  back  on  him. 
At  this  moment  a  groom  came  running  up,  out  of  breath, 
and,  raising  his  hands  to  heaven,  cried,  "  Oh  !  my  lord,  there 
is  another  accident,  the  tenth  within  a  month !  Joseph  has 
had  his  leg  broken  by  that  fiend  of  a  horse  that  no  one  can 
tame.     He  will  be  the  death  of  all  of  us." 

"Bah!"  said  the  equerry,  "you  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about.  Here  is  a  fellow  from  I  know  not  where,  who 
thinks  he  can  teach  you  all.  Give  him  Joseph's  place,  and 
put  up  another  bed  in  the  hospital." 

Prosper  followed  the  frightened  groom.  On  entering  the 
stable  he  saw  a  coal-black  horse  with  a  large  head,  full, 
prominent  eye,  powerful  chest,  and  thin  flanks,  that  stood 
drawn  up,  with  arched  neck,  casting  sidelong  glances  that 
boded  no  good. 

"There  is  the  famous  Griffon,"  said  the  groom;  "the 
wretch  is  plotting  a  kick  for  us  or  some  new  trick.  Any  one 
may  go  near  him  that  will ;  I  shall  take  care  to  keep  out  of 
his  way." 

The  prince  picked  up  a  large  whip  and  snapped  it  five  or 
six  times ;  then  sang  the  following  song  at  the  top  of  his 
voice : 

"  He  !  juchhe  !  he  juchhe  !  juch  heisa !  heisa  he !  he  juchhe !  juchhe ! 
heisa  he ! 
Liebst  du  mich,  ich  Hebe  dich ;  Liebst  du  mich  nicht,  ich  Hebe  dich 

nicht. 
Juvallera,  juvallera,  juvaHevallera !" 

Oh,  power  of  harmony !     At  these  melodious  words,  Grif- 


2  2  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

fon  relaxed  his  neck,  raised  his  head,  and  answered,  in  his 
language,  by  a  prolonged  neigh,  of  which  Prosper  did  not 
lose  a  word  : 

"  Kommcn  sie  her,  Schelm.  .  .  .,  und  kiissen  sie  mich  Laridsmann." 

The  prince  did  not  wait  to  be  bidden  twice,  but  went  straight 
to  the  horse  and  began  to  stroke  him. 

"Who  are  you,"  said  Griffon,  "and  why  have  you  come 
here?  Are  you  going  to  free  me  from  the  hands  of  these 
fools,  who  want  to  make  a  circus-horse  of  a  grandson  of 
Pegasus  ?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  Griffon,  I  bring  you  your  liberty;  but  one 
good  turn  deserves  another.  Listen  to  what  1  expect  you  to 
do ;"  and,  as  if  he  were  afraid  that  some  one  might  hear,  he 
whispered  his  project  in  the  horse's  ear. 

"All  right,"  said  Griffon  ;  "we  will  carry  off  the  princess, 
but  on  one  condition  ;  living  or  dead,  you  must  always  keep 
me  with  you.     I  have  had  enough  of  menageries." 

"  Done,"  answered  the  prince  ;  and  he  caressed  Griffon. 

While  they  talked  together  like  old  friends,  all  the  stable- 
men gathered  around  in  amazement ;  and  the  equerry,  who 
had  been  sent  for,  hastened  to  the  spot. 

"Well!  well!  young  man,"  said  he,  "I  see  you  and  the 
horse  are  on  excellent  terms.  Bring  him  out,  and  let  us  put 
him  through  his  paces." 

The  prince  took  from  his  pocket  the  magic  bridle.  The 
horse  once  saddled,  he  sprang  on  his  back,  and  rode  upon 
a  track  where  some  race-horses  were  exercising.  Every  one 
looked  at  Griffon,  who  seemed  clumsy,  and  hard  to  manage. 
Suddenly  he  quickened  his  pace  and  overtook  the  other 
horses,  that,  four  abreast,  filled  the  track ;  then  leaped  over 
them  with  one  bound.  Thirty  paces  farther  on  he  retraced 
his  steps,  leaped  again  over  the  heads  of  the  coursers  and 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World.         23 


their  astonished  jockeys,  and  returned  to  the  starting-point 

without  having  turned  a  hair. 

"  Prodigious  !"  exclaimed  the  equerry ;  "  I  never  saw  the 

like.     I  will  bet  that  this  beast  could  jump  over  the  moon 

if  he  tried." 

"  Mr.  Equerry,"  said  the  prince,  gravely,  "  I  take  the  bet." 
And  as  all  stood  agape,  he  shouted  two  words  in  the  horse 

language,  which  no  one  understood,  whereupon  Griffon  drew 


24 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


himself  up,  darted  like  an  arrow  through  the  air,  and  van- 
ished from  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  crowd. 

VII. 

The  clock  had  struck  six.  The  Fairest  of  the  Fair  was 
wearily  promenading  on  the  balcony  of  her  prison,  while  be- 
low, in  the  valley,  Indians,  Chinamen,  elephants,  horses,  and 


drums  were  continuing  their  monotonous  round.  Suddenly, 
she  spied  a  black  speck  in  the  distance  advancing  rapidly 
through  the  air.     Was  it  a  cloud,  a  gigantic  bird,  or  some 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         25 

strange  monster?  As  it  approached  the  tower  the  thing 
took  shape,  and  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair  clearly  perceived  a 
horse  swimming  in  the  air,  and  upon  this  horse  a  handsome 
rider,  richly  dressed,  with  embroidered  tunic,  velvet  cap,  and 
floating  plume.  Her  first  emotion  was  fear ;  and  she  thought 
of  flight.  Her  second  was  curiosity — she  was  a  woman  and 
captive.  Nothing,  moreover,  proved  that  the  horse  would 
stop  in  his  mad  course ;  but  when  it  landed  on  the  platform, 
and  she  saw  Prosper  alight  and  offer  her  his  hand,  she  was 
so  overcome  with  surprise  that  she  swooned.  The  prince 
was  ready  to  receive  her  in  his  arms,  but  he  was  terrified  at 
her  pallor  and  unconsciousness.  "  Griffon,  my  friend,  she  is 
dying,"  he  cried.  "  We  are  lost !  What  is  to  be  done  ?" 
"  Carry  her  off,  my  lord,''  answered  Griffon,  "  carry  her  off; 


26  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

we  have  no  time  to  lose  :  you  can  settle  matters  on  the  road. 
There  is  no  better  time  for  mutual  explanations  than  when 
a  thing  is  done  and  cannot  be  undone." 

Prince  Prosper  was  so  excited  that  he  hardly  knew  what 
he  was  about.  He  seated  the  princess  on  the  horse,  passed 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart  to  keep 
her  from  falling.  As  to  Griffon,  he  gave  a  joyful  neigh,  and 
darted  into  space  like  a  bird  spreading  its  wings  to  cleave 
the  air. 

It  was  high  time.  A  terrible  crackling  was  heard.  The 
tower  of  glass  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  melted 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         27 

away  in  tlie  lake,  which  instantly  overflowed.  Princes,  ele- 
phants, horses,  and  drummers  all  fled  pell-mell,  and  proba- 
bly more  than  one  of  them  was  drowned.  As  to  what  be* 
came  of  the  Green  Isles,  no  one  ever  knew.  No  trace  of 
them  is  found  on  the  maps.  The  savans  have  formed  nine 
hundred  and  sixty-four  hypotheses  as  to  the  discovery  of 
these  lost  lands,  all  of  which  are  so  probable  that  the  subject 
remains  a  perfect  muddle  to  this  day. 

VIII. 

One  cannot  remain  forever  in  a  swoon.  By  degrees  the 
princess  regained  her  senses,  but  it  took  some  time  for  her 
to  understand  what  was  going  on  around  her.  Griffon  soared 
above  the  clouds,  illumined  by  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  ;  and 
it  seemed  to  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair  as  if  she  were  passing 
through  a  valley  of  snow,  bordered  with  purple  and  gold 
mountains.  In  attempting  to  move,  she  perceived  that  her 
head  was  resting  on  Prosper's  shoulder ;  but  she  felt  so 
weak  that  she  did  not  dream  of  raising  it.  All  that  she 
could  do  was  to  ask  the  handsome  cavalier  who  he  was ;  and 
it  was  with  a  certain  pleasure  that  she  learned  that  he  was 
a  prince,  and  that  he  tenderly  loved  his  mother. 

"  And  where  are  we  going  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  smile. 

"To  the  palace  of  the  King  of  the  Bitter  Waters." 

"  Is  he  your  brother,  kinsman,  or  friend  ?  Is  he  young 
and  handsome?  What  is  the  matter  that  you  do  not 
answer  ?" 

Prosper  turned  pale,  and  attempted  in  vain  to  open  his 
lips.  Then,  making  a  desperate  effort  to  control  himself,  he 
stammeringly  told  her  of  his  mother,  the  wonderful  bird,  and 
the  pledge  he  had  made.  The  princess  suddenly  sat  up- 
right, and  pushed  away  the  arm  about  her  waist. 

"Let  me  go,"  she  cried,  "I  do  not  need  your  support. 


28  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

What,  was  it  for  others  that  you  tore  me  from  my  home  and 
family,  and  that  to  exchange  me  for  a  parrot.  We  read  of 
such  things  in  fairy  tales  without  believing  them.  What  had 
I  done  to  you  to  be  treated  in  this  way .?" 

"  Alas,"  said  Prosper,  "  I  had  never  seen  you  when  I  made 
that  rash  promise." 

"  Ah  !  unhappy  that  I  am,"  cried  the  princess, "  behold  me 
alone,  delivered  up  to  a  barbarian,  without  a  friend,  and  for- 
saken by  all !"  She  sobbed,  and  shook  convulsively  with 
grief.  The  terrified  prince  once  more  supported  her  with 
his  arm  ;  she  let  him  do  so  in  silence,  like  one  who  knew 
not  what  she  did. 

This  state  of  affairs  could  not  be  prolonged  without  peril, 
but  happily  Griffon  went  faster  than  the  wind.  At  daybreak 
they  were  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Bitter  Waters.  The  king 
was  celebrating  his  birthday  by  a  grand  review.  They  saw 
from  above  the  troops  drawn  up  on  the  plain.  Loud  shouts 
of  "  Long  live  the  King"  attested  the  love  of  the  people  for 
their  prince.  Griffon  began  his  descent  by  circling  in  the 
air  like  an  eagle  that  leaves  his  rock  to  swoop  down  into  the 
plain,  and  landed  before  the  king's  palace  with  his  double 
load  in  the  most  gallant  fashion. 

Prosper  alone  alighted  from  the  horse.  He  saluted  the 
king,  and,  speaking  in  a  whisper  that  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair 
might  not  hear,  told  the  story  of  his  feats,  and,  in  exchange 
for  the  princess,  claimed  the  wonderful  bird  whose  conquest 
had  cost  him  so  dear. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  king,  who  was  eying  Griffon  rath- 
er than  the  princess, "  I  know  what  I  promised ;  but  first 
of  all  I  must  have  that  horse,  otherwise  the  bargain  is 
broken." 

"That  cannot  be,"  answered  Prosper;  "you  ordered 
me  to  bring  you  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair,  and  here  she  is. 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         29 


It  is  your  turn  to  keep  your  promise;  a  prince's  word  is 
sacred." 

"Do  you  dare  to  brave  me?"  cried  the  king.  "Learn, 
young  man,  that  a  king  does  what  he  pleases,  and  is  bound 
to  no  one.  I  shall  keep  the  princess,  the  horse,  and  the 
bird  into  the  bargain.  Begone  this  instant,  and  presume 
no  longer  on  my  goodness !" 

"Disloyal  prince  and  false  knight,"  exclaimed  Prosper, 


30 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  you  shall  pay  with  your  life  for  your  breach  of  faith  \  stand, 
and  defend  yourself!"  Then,  drawing  his  good  sword,  he  fell 
upon  the  King  of  the  Bitter  Waters,  who  had  barely  time  to 
put  himself  on  guard.  The  struggle  was  short ;  the  king 
counted  upon  his  magic  to  overcome  Prosper ;  but  the 
prince's  sword  was  enchanted ;   and  at  the  very  first   en- 


counter it  pierced  the  throat  of  his  foe,  who  threw  up  his 
arms  and  fell  motionless  on  the  ground.  An  instant  after, 
the  corpse  was  nothing  but  a  heap  of  dust  and  ashes,  which, 
as  my  readers  all  know,  is  the  usual  end  of  sorcerers. 

The  king  dead,  the  palace  doors  opened  of  their  own  ac- 
cord ;  the  enchantment  was  ended.     A  host  of  princes,  who 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         31 

had  resumed  their  own  shapes,  ranged  themselves  round 
their  deliverer.  At  their  head  was  Prince  Lofty,  followed 
by  Prince  Reckless,  who  bore  the  wonderful  bird  on  his  wrist, 
as  a  falconer  carries  his  hawk.  At  this  sight  the  troops 
disbanded ;  all  the  generals  and  high  officials  clustered 
around  Prosper,  and  offered  him  the  crown,  shouting  "  Long 
live  the  King!"  The  people  and  soldiers  echoed  the  cry, 
and  the  rejoicing  was  universal. 

Prosper  thanked  them  all.  His  ambition  was  in  a  dif- 
ferent direction ;  but,  in  order  not  to  disoblige  them,  he  of- 
fered them  in  his  place  Prince  Reckless,  who  was  endowed 
from  birth  with  all  the  qualities  of  a  great  sovereign.  They 
were  in  need  of  a  ruler,  and  had  no  time  to  wait ;  moreover, 
Prince  Reckless  was  very  nearly  as  good-looking  as  his 
brother.  The  generals  proclaimed  him  king ;  the  officers  of 
the  crown  applauded ;  the  people  and  soldiers  echoed  the 
cry ;  and  the  rejoicing  was  universal. 

Meanwhile,  Prosper  approached  Griffon,  and,  bowing  to 
the  Fairest  of  the  Fair,  who  was  still  mute  and  pensive. 

"  And  now,  madam,"  said  he,  "  where  does  it  please  you  to 
be  conducted  by  your  faithful  knight  ?" 

"  Take  me  to  your  mother's  house !"  she  answered,  in  a 
mournful  tone,  "  I  would  not  delay  for  a  moment  her  pleas- 
ure in  embracing  so  good  a  son." 

IX. 

People  are  right  in  saying  that  when  Happiness  enters  a 
house  Misfortune  always  stands  on  watch  at  the  door  to 
strangle  it  and  take  its  place.  Never  had  Prosper  been  so 
happy  j  yet  he  was  on  the  eve  of  losing  everything,  without 
even  suspecting  the  danger  by  which  he  was  threatened. 

The  coronation  of  Prince  Reckless  over.  Prosper  set  out 
to  rejoin  his  mother.     The  princess  rode  a  snow-white  nag, 


32 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


which,  by  a  strange  instinct,  clung  close  to  Griffon's  side ;  a 
fortunate  circumstance,  since  Prosper  and  the  Fairest  of  the 
Fair  constantly  had  some  secret  to  confide  to  each  other, 
which  could  not  have  been  of  a  tragic  kind,  since  the  pair 
were  always  laughing. 


But  behind  them,  with  head  bent,  lips  compressed,  and 
lowering  brow,  rode  Prince  Lofty,  his  heart  consumed  with 
envy.  "  What,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  must  this  boy  return 
with  the  three  wonders  of  the  world,  to  be  welcomed  with 
transport  by  my  mother,  the  court,  and  my  people,  while  I, 
the  eldest,  come  empty-handed,  to  be  neglected  by  all.     Am 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,         33 

I  less  brave  or  less  generous  than  he  ?  No,  but  luck  was  on 
his  side  and  ill-luck  on  mine !"  And  he  was  beset  by  these 
evil  thoughts,  which  he  vainly  tried  to  banish. 

It  chanced  that  on  the  third  day  they  halted  in  a  moun- 
tainous region,  where  there  was  a  deep  valley,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  which  was  heard  a  rushing  torrent,  while  on  the  top 
of  the  cliff  a  narrow  footpath  followed  the  windings  of  the 
brook  as  it  dashed  among  the  rocks.  The  moon  rose  in  all 
its  beauty.  Prosper  went  out  to  breathe  the  fresh  air ;  he  fol- 
lowed the  footpath  which  led  along  the  brow  of  the  mountain, 
and  admired  the  capricious  play  of  the  light  and  shade,  think- 
ing as  he  walked  of  all  the  dangers  he  had  passed  through, 
and  of  his  happiness  on  seeing  his  mother  again  and  present- 
ing to  her  a  daughter.  His  heart  overflowed,  and  the  toil- 
some past  only  rendered  the  present  joy  the  sweeter. 

But  behind  him,  in  the  darkness,  stalked  an  ungrateful 
brother  and  terrible  foe.  Hidden  by  the  brush  and  rocks. 
Lofty  had  followed  Prosper ;  why,  he  dared  not  own  to  him- 
self. Hatred  instinctively  led  him  to  dog  the  footsteps  of 
his  rival.  Suddenly,  a  diabolical  thought  crossed  his  mind. 
Prosper  was  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  looking  down 
at  the  brook  as  it  glittered  in  the  moonlight  far  down  the 
valley.  A  false  step,  and  he  was  lost.  Lofty  did  not  hesi- 
tate ;  he  sprang  upon  his  brother,  and  pushed  him  over  the 
precipice.  Prosper  fell,  uttering  a  cry ;  then  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  noise  of  the  stones  as  they  rolled  into  the  tor- 
rent and  awakened  the  neighboring  echoes. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  party  was  ready  to  go,  Pros- 
per was  missing.  Every  one  wished  to  wait  for  him,  but 
Lofty  harshly  ordered  them  to  proceed,  and  they  were  forced 
to  obey.  The  prince  was  pale  and  haggard,  and  at  the  same 
time  nervous  and  irritable.  He  attempted  to  mount  Griffon 
and  lead  the  way ;  but,  in  spite  of  a  shower  of  abuse  and 
8 


34 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


blows,  the  horse 
reared  and  kicked 
until  he  was  left  at 
liberty.  He  did 
not  abuse  it,  but 
followed  the  prin- 
cess with  so  meek 
and  submissive  an 
air  that  she  took 
him  in  preference 
to  her  nag.  The 
green  bird  also 
perched  on  the 
shoulder  of  its  new 
mistress,  and  the 
train  moved  on 
without  a  word  being  spoken  by  any  one. 
After  travelling  four  days  in  silence  they  reached  the 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World,  35 

kingdom  of  the  old  queen,  who  hastened  to  meet  the  proces- 
sion, somewhat  astonished  at  its  gloomy  air.  It  seemed  more 
like  a  funeral  train  than  a  triumphal  entry.  On  not  seeing 
her  dear  Prosper,  the  poor  mother  burst  into  tears,  which 
threw  Lofty  in  such  ill-humor  that  he  left  the  party  and  shut 
himself  up  in  his  own  apartments,  and  was  not  seen  again 
until  the  next  day. 

A  horse  that  does  not  neigh,  a  bird  that  does  not  sing, 
and  a  woman  that  does  not  talk  are  so  far  out  of  the  common 
order  of  things  that  they  can  be  accounted  for  only  by  magic. 
The  good  queen  therefore  affixed  to  the  palace  door  a  huge 
placard,  offering  an  immense  reward  to  any  one  who  would 
make  the  lady  speak  and  the  bird  sing.  To  keep  off  char- 
latans, however,  a  short  shrift  and  a  long  rope  were  prom- 
ised to  all  who  proved  by  their  failure  that  they  were  not 
sorcerers.  It  was  the  custom  in  olden  times  thus  to  treat 
those  who  promised  marvels  in  order  to  build  their  fortunes 
on  others'  credulity.  The  custom  had  its  advantages,  and  it 
is  somewhat  of  a  pity  that  it  ever  fell  into  disuse. 

Half  a  dozen  had  already  been  hung,  and  the  rest  were 
beginning  to  be  disheartened,  when  one  day  a  new  aspirant 
rang  the  great  bell  at  the  palace  entrance.  The  unhappy 
man  was  brought  into  the  main  hall  on  the  ground -floor, 
and  warned  of  the  fate  there  was  in  store  for  him.  He  did 
not  seem  dismayed,  but  shook  his  head  in  an  ironical  fash- 
ion. He  was  an  old  peasant,  clad  in  goat-skins ;  his  shaggy 
white  locks  fell  over  his  face,  and  he  walked,  leaning  on  a 
thick  staff,  with  a  slow  but  firm  tread.  He  approached  the 
throne  where  the  queen  was  sitting,  and  was  about  to  speak, 
when,  lo !  the  bird  began  to  sing.  "  E  desso,"  said  he,  in  his 
jargon.  At  the  same  instant  Griffon  came  on  a  gallop,  and 
leaped  the  wall,  neighing,  "  Da  ist  der  Herr !"  and,  strange 
to  say,  the  princess  placed  her  hand  on  her  heart  and  mur- 


36 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


mured,  "It  is  he!"  All 
gazed  at  each  other  ;  when, 
quicker  than  lightning,  the 
pretended  peasant  snatched 
oflf  his  wig,  and  threw  him- 
self into  the  queen's  arms. 
It  was  Prosper,  younger 
and  handsomer  than  ever. 

He  turned  to  look  for  his 
brother;  he  was  so  happy 
that  he  was  ready  to  forgive 
him.  But  Lofty  had  fled, 
and  never  more  was  seen  ', 
good  luck,  and  good  rid- 
dance to  him  !  A  wicked 
man  the  less  in  the  world  is 
a  boon  to  all  honest  people. 
How  it  happened  that 
Prosper  was  still  living; 
whether  he  had  been  caught 
by  the  brush  on  the  rocks, 
or,  what  was  more  proba- 
ble, whether  his  fairy  god- 
mother had  caught  him  as 
he  fell,  and  laid  him  in  safe- 
ty on  the  opposite  bank,  is  something  on  which  history  is  in 
doubt,  and  I  do  not  venture  to  hold  an  opinion.  It  is  cer- 
tain, however,  that  the  marriage  of  Prosper  and  the  Fairest 
of  the  Fair  took  place  without  delay.  The  guests  came 
from  eight  hundred  leagues  round,  and  Prince  Reckless  was 
there  with  all  his  court.  It  was  a  magnificent  spectacle. 
In  thirty  days'  feasting  and  dancing  they  spent  the  revenues 
of  the  whole  year,  an4  were  forced  to  double  the  taxes. 


The  Three  Wonders  of  the  World. 


37 


But  the  people  were  highly  amused ;  so  much  amused,  in- 
deed, that  for  years  to  come  they  dated  everything  from 
the  marriage  of  Prince  Prosper.  Happy  country,  where  the 
people  can  be  amused  at  their  own  expense ! 

The  festivities  over,  the  bird  proposed  to  the  old  queen  to 
make  her  young  again.  "I  shall  be  very  glad,"  said  she, 
"  but  do  not  go  too  far.  At  no  price  would  I  be  willing  to 
live  over  again  the  pleasures  and  vexations  of  youth.  I 
should  like  to  be  a  youthful  grandmother,  that  I  might  see 


38  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

my  grandchildren  grow  up ;  I  desire  nothing  more,  and  would 
not  exchange  my  grandmother's  crown  for  a  bridal  wreath." 
The  bird  did  as  it  was  told,  and  stopped  when  the  old  queen 
had  gone  back  to  the  age  of  forty-five. 

Prince  Prosper  and  the  Fairest  of  the  Fair  had  a  large 
family,  and  lived  happily.  Griffon  stayed  with  his  young 
masters,  as  did  likewise  the  parrot,  and  they  all  grew  old 
together.  The  bird  more  than  once  proposed  to  Prosper  to 
make  him  young  again,  but  he  always  refused.  "  No,"  said 
he  ;  "  there  are  but  three  beings  in  the  world  that  know  how 
to  love :  an  old  dog,  an  old  horse,  and  an  old  wife.  I  have 
found  two  of  these  treasures,  and  I  mean  to  cling  to  them." 
On  her  side,  the  princess,  woman  though  she  was,  refused  to 
renew  her  youth.  "  What  is  the  use,"  said  she,  "  as  long  as 
my  husband  is  satisfied  with  me  as  I  am  1  Whoever  is  be- 
loved is  always  young  and  handsome." 

Thus  their  lives  were  passed — loving,  beloved,  trusting, 
and  happy.  Their  mutual  afiection  was  darkened  by  no 
cloud  ;  and,  if  they  are  not  dead,  they  are  loving  each  other 
to  this  very  day. 


THE  FAIRY  CRAWFISH. 


AN    ESTHONIAN   TALE. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Revel,  near  the  shores  of  the  Bal- 
tic, there  once  lived  a  wood-cutter  in  a  wretched  hovel,  situa- 
ted by  a  deserted  road,  on  the  edge  of  the  forest.  Loppi, 
for  that  was  our  hero's  name,  was  as  poor  as  Job,  and  like- 
wise as  patient.  That  nothing  might  be  lacking  to  complete 
the  resemblance.  Providence  in  its  mercy  had  granted  him  a 
wife  who  might  have  given  points  to  the  spouse  of  the  patri- 
arch. Her  name  was  Masicas,  which  signifies,  it  is  said, 
wild  strawberry.  She  was  not  naturally  vicious,  and  never 
flew  into  a  rage  when  other  people  agreed  with  her  or  did  as 
she  liked.  But  the  rest  of  the  time  she  was  not  so  good- 
tempered;  If  she  was  silent  from  morning  to  night,  when 
her  husband  was  in  the  fields  or  the  forest,  she  scolded  from 
night  to  morning,  when  her  lord  was  in  the  house.     It  is  true 


40  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

that,  according  to  the  old  proverb,  "horses  quarrel  when 
there  is  no  hay  in  the  rack ;"  and  plenty  did  not  reign  in 
the  wood-cutter's  hut.  The  spiders  spun  few  webs  there, 
for  there  was  not  a  fly  to  catch,  and  two  mice  that  chanced 
to  stray  into  the  wretched  dwelling  perished  with  hunger. 

One  day,  when  there  was  nothing  to  eat  in  the  house,  and 
the  charming  Masicas  was  more  vixenish  than  usual,  the  hon- 
est wood-cutter  flung  over  his  shoulder  an  empty  sack,  his 
sole  possession,  and  rushed  from  the  house  sighing.  He 
used  to  go  out  with  this  wallet  every  morning  in  search  of 
work,  or,  rather,  of  alms,  too  happy  when  he  could  carry 
home  a  crust  of  dry  bread,  a  head  of  cabbage,  or  a  few  po- 
tatoes bestowed  on  him  in  charity. 

He  was  passing  by  a  pond,  lighted  by  the  first  beams  of 
day,  when  he  spied  in  the  wet  grass  a  blackish  object,  lying 
motionless,  and  looking  like  some  strange  animal.  It  was 
a  huge  crawfish,  whose  like  he  had  never  seen.  The  morn- 
ing sun,  or  perhaps  fatigue,  had  put  the  creature  to  sleep. 
To  seize  it  around  the  body  and  fling  it  into  his  sack,  with- 
out giving  it  time  to  look  about,  was  the  work  of  an  instant. 
"  What  a  windfall  !"  thought  Loppi ;  "  and  how  pleased  my 
wife  will  be  !     It  is  long  since  she  had  such  a  treat." 

He  leaped  with  joy ;  then  suddenly  stopped  and  turned 
pale.  From  the  sack  arose  sepulchral  tones — a  human  voice; 
it  was  the  crawfish  speaking. 

"  Halloa !  my  friend,"  it  cried,  "  stop,  and  let  me  go.  I 
am  the  oldest  of  the  crawfish  tribe ;  I  am  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  old.  What  could  you  do  with  my  tough  carcass  ? 
It  would  blunt  the  teeth  of  a  wolf.  Do  not  abuse  the  chance 
that  has  thrown  me  into  your  hands.  Remember  that  I, 
like  yourself,  am  one  of  God's  creatures,  and  pity  me  as  you 
would  some  day  have  him  take  pity  on  you." 

*^My  dear  crawfish,"  answered  the  wood -cutter,  "your 


"  The  honest  wood-cutter  flung  over  his  shoulder  an  empty  sack,  and 
went  out  sighing." 


42  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

preaching  is  fine,  but  do  not  blame  me  for  not  listening 
to  your  sermon.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  willingly  let 
you  go,  but  my  wife  is  waiting  for  me  to  bring  her  our  din- 
ner. If  I  return  empty-handed,  and  tell  her  that  I  caught 
the  finest  crawfish  that  ever  was  seen,  and  let  it  go  again, 
she  will  raise  an  uproar  that  might  be  heard  from  here  to 
Revel.  And,  with  her  quick  temper,  she  is  quite  capable 
of  meeting  me  with  a  broomstick." 

"  What  need  is  there  of  telling  your  wife  ?"  asked  the 
crawfish. 

Loppi  scratched  his  ear  and  then  his  head,  and,  heaving 
a  deep  sigh, 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  "  if  you  knew  Masicas,  and  under- 
stood how  sharp  she  is,  you  would  not  talk  to  me  in  this 
style.  She  has  a  way  of  leading  you  by  the  nose,  whether 
you  will  or  no.  There  is  no  resisting  her.  She  turns  you 
inside  out  like  the  skin  of  an  eel,  and  makes  you  tell  all  you 
know,  and  even  some  things  that  you  do  not  know.  She  is 
a  superior  woman." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  resumed  the  crawfish,  "  I  see  that  you 
belong  to  the  brotherhood  of  good  husbands.  I  congratulate 
you !  But  as  empty  compliment  will  not  serve  your  turn,  I 
am  ready  to  redeem  my  liberty  at  a  price  that  will  satisfy 
madame.  Do  not  judge  me  by  appearances.  I  am  a  fairy, 
and  have  some  power.  If  you  listen  to  me,  you  will  be  the 
gainer  ;  if  you  turn  a  deaf  ear,  you  will  repent  it  all  your  life." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Loppi,  "  I  do  not  want  to  harm  anybody. 
Fix  matters  so  that  Masicas  will  be  pleased,  and  I  am  quite 
ready  to  let  you  go  free." 

"  What  kind  of  fish  does  your  wife  like  best  ?" 

"  I  have  no  idea.  We  poor  people  have  not  time  to  pick 
and  choose.  It  is  enough  that  I  do  not  go  home  empty- 
handed.     No  one  will  complain." 


Taking  the  crawfish  around  the  body,  he  gently  placed  her  in  the  water." 


\ 


44  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

"  Lay  me  on  the  ground,"  said  the  crawfish,  "  then  dip 
your  open  sack  into  this  corner  of  the  pond.  Right.  Now, 
Fish  in  the  sack  /' 

Was  such  a  marvel  ever  seen !  In  an  instant  the  sack 
was  full  of  fish ;  so  full,  indeed,  that  it  nearly  slipped  from 
its  owner's  hands. 

"  You  see  that  she  whom  you  have  befriended  is  not  un- 
grateful," said  the  crawfish  to  the  astonished  wood-cutter. 
"  You  can  come  here  every  morning  and  fill  your  wallet  by 
repeating  the  words  Fish  in  the  sack.  I  will  keep  my  prom- 
ise. You  have  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  will  be  kind  to  you. 
And  if,  by  and  by,  you  wish  for  something  else,  come  here 
and  call  me,  in  these  solemn  words, 

•  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend.' 

I  will  answer  your  voice,  and  see  what  I  can  do.  A  last 
piece  of  friendly  counsel :  if  you  wish  to  be  happy  at  home, 
be  prudent ;  and  say  nothing  to  your  wife  of  what  has  hap- 
pened to-day." 

"I  will  try,  Madame  Fairy,"  answered  the  wood-cutter. 
Then,  taking  the  crawfish  around  the  body,  he  gently  placed 
her  in  the  water,  into  which  she  plunged  out  of  sight. 

As  to  the  proud  and  happy  Loppi,  he  returned  home  with  a 
light  step  and  a  lighter  heart.  He  hardly  waited  to  enter 
the  house  before  opening  his  sack,  when,  behold,  there  sprang 
from  it  a  superb  pike,  an  ell  long,  a  great  golden  carp,  that 
leaped  in  the  air  and  fell  back  gasping,  two  fine  tenches,  and 
a  mass  of  whitefish.  Any  one  would  have  said  that  it  was 
the  pick  of  the  Revel  market.  At  the  sight  of  all  this 
wealth  Masicas  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  threw  herself  on 
Loppi's  neck. 

*  My  husband,  my  dear  husband,  my  love  of  a  husband," 

/ 


The  Fairy  Crawfish. 


45 


she  said,  "  you  see  how  right  your  little  wife  was  in  making 
you  go  out  so  early  this  morning  to  seek  your  fortune.  An- 
other time  you  will  listen  to  her.  What  splendid  fish !  Go 
to  the  garden,  where  you  will  find  a  little  garlic  and  onions, 


4.6  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

then  run  to  the  woods  and  get  some  mushrooms.  I  will 
make  you  a  fish  soup  such  as  king  nor  emperor  ever  tasted. 
Then  we  will  broil  the  carp  \  and  we  shall  have  a  feast  fit 
for  an  alderman." 

The  meal  was  a  merry  one.  Masicas  had  no  will  but  that 
of  her  husband.  Loppi  thought  that  the  honeymoon  had 
come  again.  But,  alas !  the  very  next  day,  which  was 
Monday,  the  fish  he  brought  were  more  coldly  received. 
On  the  fourth  day  madame  made  a  face  at  them,  and  on 
Sunday  she  burst  forth  in  a  passion. 

"  Have  you  vowed  to  shut  me  up  in  a  convent  ?  Am  I  a 
nun,  that  you  condemn  me  to  keep  Lent  to  all  eternity  ?  What 
can  be  more  insipid  than  this  fish  t  The  very  sight  of  it 
turns  my  stomach." 

"What  do  you  want,  then?"  cried  honest  Loppi,  who  had 
not  yet  forgotten  his  destitution. 

"Nothing  but  what  every  honest  peasant  family  has  to 
eat.  A  good  soup,  and  a  piece  of  roast  pork  ;  that  is  all  I 
need  to  be  happy.     I  am  content  with  so  little." 

"  It  is  true,"  thought  the  wood-cutter,  "  that  the  fish  from 
the  pond  is  a  little  tasteless,  and  that  there  is  nothing  so 
good  for  a  weak  stomach  as  a  nice  slice  of  pork.  But  will 
the  fairy  be  able  to  grant  me  so  great  a  favor  ?" 

The  next  morning,  at  daybreak,  he  hastened  to  the  pond 
and  called  his  benefactress  : 

"  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend." 

And  behold,  a  huge  claw  rose  from  the  water,  then  anoth- 
er, and  then  a  head  in  a  bishop's  mitre,  with  two  great  star- 
ing eyes. 

"  What  do  you  want,  brother  ?"  asked  a  well-known  voice. 

"  Nothing  for  myself,"  answered  the  wood-cutter.     "  What 


The  Fairy  Crawfish. 


47 


have  I  to  wish  for?  But  my  wife  has  a  weak  stomach,  and 
is  beginning  to  tire  of  fish  ;  she  would  like  something  else  ; 
soup,  for  example,  or  a  roast  of  pork." 

"  If  that  is  all  your  dear  wife  needs  to  make  her  happy,  I 
can  satisfy  her,"  answered  the  crawfish.  "At  dinner-time 
tap  thrice  on  the  table  with  your  little  finger,  saying  each 


48 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


time,  ^  Soup  and  roast  appear  P  and  you  will  be  served.  But 
beware :  your  wife's  wishes  may  not  always  be  so  modest ; 
do  not  become  a  slave  to  them,  or  you  will  repent  when  it  is 
too  late." 

"  I  will  try,'*  said  Loppi,  sighing. 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  dinner  appeared  on  the  table. 
Masicas  was  overcome  with  joy.  The  gentleness  of  a  lamb 
and  the  tenderness  of  a  dove  were  nothing  compared  with 
the  submission  she  showed  her  husband.  These  halcyon 
days  lasted  a  whole  week.  But  ere  long  the  horizon  dark- 
ened, and  at  last  the  storm  broke  on  the  head  of  the  inno- 
cent Loppi. 

"  How  long  is  this  torture  to  last  ?  Do  you  mean  to  sick- 
en me  to  death  by  feeding  me  on  this  greasy  broth  and  fat 
pork?     I  am  not  a  woman  to  stand  such  treatment." 

"  What  do  you  want  then,  my  love .?"  asked  Loppi. 

"  I  want  a  good,  plain  dinner :  a  roast  goose,  and  some 
tarts  for  dessert." 


The  Fairy  Crawfish.  49 

What  answer  could  he  make  ?  There  were  a  number  of 
things,  indeed,  that  he  might  have  said,  but  Loppi  was  not 
equal  to  risking  the  peace  of  the  family.  A  look  from  his 
wife  would  have  made  him  sink  into  the  earth.  One  is  so 
weak  when  he  loves ! 

The  poor  man  did  not  close  his  eyes  that  night.  Early 
the  next  morning  he  set  out  for  the  pond,  and  walked  for  a 
long  time  up  and  down  the  bank,  his  heart  consumed  by 
anxiety.  If  the  fairy  thought  he  was  asking  too  much,  what 
was  he  to  do?     At  last  he  summoned  up  his  courage,  and 

cried, 

"  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend." 

"  What  do  you  want,  brother  ?"  answered  a  voice  that 
made  him  start. 

"  Nothing  for  myself.  What  have  I  to  wish  for  ?  But  my 
wife's  stomach  is  beginning  to  tire  of  soup  and  roast  pork. 
She  would  like  something  light ;  for  instance,  a  roast  goose 
and  some  tarts." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  replied  the  good  fairy,  "  we  will  try  once 
more  to  satisfy  her.  Return  home,  brother,  and  do  not 
come  to  me  every  time  your  wife  wishes  to  change  her  bill 
of  fare  ;  let  her  order  what  she  likes  ',  the  table  is  a  faithful 
servant,  and  will  obey  her." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  On  returning  home,  the  wood- 
cutter found  the  table  already  laid,  with  pewter  mugs  and 
plates,  wrought-iron  spoons,  and  three-pronged  steel  forks ; 
the  fairy  had  done  things  on  a  grand  scale,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  roast  goose  and  potatoes,  stewed  sauce,  and  toothsome 
plum-pudding.  Nothing  was  lacking,  not  even  a  flask  of 
anisette  cordial  to  enliven  the  feast.  This  time  Loppi 
thought  his  troubles  at  an  end. 

Alas !  it  is  sometimes  a  misfortune  for  a  husband  to  in- 
4 


so 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


spire  his  wife  with  too  high  an  idea  of  his  might.  Masi- 
cas  had  sense  enough  to  understand  that  there  was  some- 
thing magical  about  this  wonderful  plenty.  One  day  she  in- 
sisted on  knowing  what  good  genius  had  taken  them  under 
his  protection.  Loppi  attempted  at  first  to  keep  silence,  but 
how  could  one  resist  so  trusting,  tender,  and  loving  a  wife? 
Let  the  first  husband  that  would  not  do  likewise  dare  to 
cast  a  stone  at  him  and  tell  it  at  home ;  I  shall  think  him 
rasher  than  Alexander,  and  bolder  than  Caesar. 

Masicas  had  sworn  to  betray  this  precious  confidence  to 


The  Fairy  Crawfish,  51 

no  one  ;  she  kept  her  oath  (there  was  not  a  neighbor  within 
two  leagues  around) ;  but  if  she  kept  the  secret,  she  took 
care  not  to  forget  it. 

An  occasion  soon  offers  to  him  who  is  on  the  watch  for 
it.  One  evening,  when  Masicas  had  delighted  her  husband 
with  her  tenderness  and  good-humor,"  Loppi,"  she  said, "my 
dear  Loppi,  you  have  been  lucky,  it  is  true,  but  you  do  not 
know  how  to  make  the  most  of  your  luck.  You  do  not  think 
about  your  little  wife.  I  dine  like  a  princess,  and  dress  like 
a  beggar.  Am  I  so  old  and  ugly  that  you  are  willing  to  let 
me  go  ragged.?  I  do  not  say  this  through  coquetry,  my 
love ;  there  is  but  one  man  whom  I  care  to  please ;  but  I 
must  have  clothes  like  a  lady.  Do  not  tell  me  that  you 
cannot  help  it,"  added  she,  with  the  most  winning  smile,  "  I 
know  better ;  I  know  that  the  fairy  is  always  ready  to  serve 
you.  Can  you  deny  the  modest  request  of  her  who  lives  for 
you  alone  ?" 

When  a  woman  asks  for  a  dress  to  shine  only  in  her  hus- 
band's eyes,  who  could  be  barbarous  enough  to  refuse  to 
please  his  companion,  even  though  it  took  a  new  toilette  every 
day.  Loppi  was  not  a  monster.  Indeed,  in  the  bottom  of 
his  heart,  he  thought  that  Masicas  was  not  wrong.  With 
their  squalid  garments,  it  seemed  as  though  they  were  eating 
stolen  food.  How  much  brighter  their  table  would  be  with 
a  well-dressed  mistress  of  the  house  at  its  head  ! 

Despite  these  good  reasons  Loppi  set  out  for  the  pond  in 
an  uneasy  frame  of  mind.  He  began  to  fear  that  he  was 
going  too  far.     It  was  not  without  dread  that  he  called  his 

benefactress — 

"  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend." 

Suddenly  the  fairy  appeared  above  the  water.  "  What  do 
you  want,  brother  ?"  said  she. 


52  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Nothing  for  myself.  What  have  I  to  wish  for  ?  But  you 
are  so  good  and  generous  that  my  wife's  wishes  come  a  lit- 
tle too  fast.  Her  rags  remind  her  of  our  former  wretched- 
ness, and  nothing  will  do  but  that  she  must  be  dressed  like 
a  lady." 

The  good  crawfish  laughed  heartily.  "Return  home, 
brother,"  said  she,  "your  wife's  wishes  are  granted." 

Loppi  could  not  find  words  to  express  his  thanks,  and  in- 
sisted on  kissing  the  claw  of  his  friend.  He  sang  along  the 
road,  as  gay  and  light-hearted  as  a  lark.  On  the  way  he 
met  a  beautiful  lady,  dressed  in  cloth,  silk,  and  furs.  He 
bowed  humbly  to  the  noble  princess,  when  the  stranger 
laughed  in  his  face  and  flung  herself  on  his  neck.  It  was 
Masicas,  in  all  her  beauty,  and,  to  speak  frankly,  she  was 
second  to  none  in  majesty  and  grace.  The  proverb  that 
the  habit  makes  the  monk  and  the  feathers  the  bird,  is,  above 
all,  true  where  women  are  concerned. ' 

This  time  Masicas  was  happy,  there  was  no  denying  it ; 
but  it  is  the  misfortune  of  the  happy  that  desires  l^eget  de- 
sires. Of  what  use  was  it  to  play  the  lady  when  she  lived 
alone  in  a  wretched  hovel,  without  a  neighbor  to  madden 
with  jealousy  at  her  sight,  or  a  mirror  in  which  to  gaze  at 
herself  from  head  to  foot  ?  Masicas  had  not  promenaded 
about  in  her  cloth  and  furs  for  a  week  when  she  said  to  her 
husband, 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  the  way  we  live ;  it  is  really 
absurd.  I  will  stand  it  no  longer.  A  princely  table  and  ele- 
gant dress  do  not  agree  with  a  hovel  open  on  all  sides. 
The  fairy  has  too  much  sense,  and  she  loves  you  too  well,  my 
dear  husband,  not  to  feel  that  she  owes  us  a  mansion  where 
I  can  play  lady  of  the  castle  all  day  long.  With  this,  I  shall 
have  nothing  left  to  desire." 

"Alas!  we  are  lost,"  cried  Loppi.     "The  string  that  is 


The  Fairy  Crawfish, 


53 


drawn  too  tight  is  sure  to  snap;  we  shall  be  poorer  than 
ever.  Why  not  be  content  with  what  we  have  ?  How  many- 
would  be  thankful  for  such  comfort  as  ours !" 

"  Loppi,"  said  Masicas,  impatiently,  "  you  will  never  be 


54 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


anything  but  a  milksop.  Don't  you  know  that  those  who 
are  afraid  to  speak  for  themselves  always  go  to  the  wall  ? 
Are  you  any  the  worse  for  taking  my  advice  ?  Go  on  ;  don't 
be  afraid ;  I  will  answer  for  the  consequences." 

She  railed  at  the  good  man  until  he  set  out,  his  limbs 
trembling  beneath  him.  Should  the  fairy  refuse  to  listen, 
he  could  bear  the  disappointment  well  enough,  but  how 
could  he  face  his  wife's  despair  on  his  return  ?    He  did  not 


The  Fairy  Crawfish,  55 

feel  able  to  brave  the  tempest  she  would  raise ;  and  the 
only  way  in  which  he  could  summon  up  his  courage  was  to 
vow  within  his  heart  that  if  the  crawfish  said  no,  he  would 
fling  himself  head  foremost  into  the  pond.  However  vio- 
lent might  be  the  remedy,  the  evil  was  still  greater. 

Nothing  is  braver  than  poltroons  at  bay.  It  was  in  a 
gruff  voice  that  he  cried  : 

"  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend." 

"What  do  you  want,  brother?"  said  the  fairy. 

"  Nothing  for  myself  What  have  I  to  wish  for?  But  my 
wife,  in  spite  of  all  the  favors  you  have  heaped  upon  us,  tor- 
ments me  night  and  day  to  make  a  new  demand  of  you, 
against  my  will." 

"Ho,  ho!"  cried  the  crawfish,  "you  have  changed  your 
tune.  You  have  told  our  secret  to  your  wife  ;  now  you  may 
bid  farewell  to  peace  at  home.  And  what  does  this  fair 
lady  ask,  now  that  she  thinks  she  has  me  in  her  power?" 

"  A  mansion,  good  fairy,  a  modest  little  castle,  that  her 
house  may  correspond  with  the  fine  clothes  you  have  given 
her.  Make  Masicas  a  baroness,  and  she  will  be  so  happy 
that  we  shall  have  nothing  left  to  wish  for." 

"  Brother,"  answered  the  crawfish,  gravely,  "  be  it  as  your 
wife  desires."     And  she  abruptly  disappeared. 

Loppi  had  some  trouble  in  finding  his  way  back.  The 
whole  aspect  of  the  country  had  changed  ;  around  him  were 
well-tilled  fields,  and  pastures  full  of  cattle  ;  beyond  he  saw 
a  brick  mansion,  in  the  midst  of  a  garden  full  of  fruit  and 
flowers.  Wondering  what  this  castle  could  be,  which  he  be- 
held for  the  first  time,  he  gazed  at  it  with  admiration,  when 
a  richly  dressed  lady  came  down  the  steps.  Strange  to  say, 
she  smiled  at  him  and  held  out  her  hand — it  was  Masicas. 


56  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  At  last,"  she  exclaimed, "  I  have  nothing  left  to  wish 
for.  Kiss  me,  my  dear  Loppi.  You  have  crowned  my 
wishes.     I  thank  you,  and  also  the  good  fairy." 

The  honest  wood-cutter  was  ravished  with  delight.  No 
dream  could  have  been  more  enchanting.  In  an  hour  to 
be  transported  from  poverty  to  riches,  and  from  obscurity  to 
a  lofty  station ;  to  dwell  in  a  castle  with  a  graceful  woman, 
always  good-humored,  and  whose  only  thought  was  to  please 
him — Loppi  wept  for  joy. 

But,  unhappily,  there  is  no  dream  without  a  waking.  Ma- 
sicas  tasted  all  the  pleasures  of  wealth  and  greatness.  All 
the  barons  and  baronesses  in  the  neighborhood  disputed 
with  each  other  the  honor  of  visiting  and  receiving  her ;  the 
governor  of  the  province  was  at  her  feet ;  and  her  dresses, 
castle,  horses,  and  stables  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood. Had  she  not  the  finest  trotters  in  the  country ; 
English  cows  with  scarcely  any  horns  and  still  less  milk; 
English  hens  that  seldom  laid,  but  that  were  as  handsome 
and  wild  as  pheasants ;  and  English  pigs  so  fat  that  neither 
head,  tail,  nor  feet  could  be  seen  ?  What  did  Masicas  lack, 
then,  to  make  her  the  happiest  of  women  ?  Alas,  everything 
had  succeeded  but  too  well  with  her.  She  felt  that  she  was 
born  to  rule,  and  did  not  hide  it  from  her  husband.  The 
great  lady  wished  to  be  a  queen. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  said  she  to  Loppi, "  with  what  respect 
every  one  treats  me?  It  is  because  I  am  always  in  the 
right.  Even  you,  who  are  more  stubborn  than  a  mule,  can- 
not help  owning  that  I  am  never  wrong.  I  was  born  to  be 
a  queen  !     I  feel  it." 

Loppi  cried  out  in  amazement.  He  was  sharply  told  in 
reply  that  he  was  nothing  but  a  simpleton.  Who  had  forced 
him,  against  his  will,  to  apply  again  to  the  crawfish?  It 
would  be  the  same  way  this  time.     He  would  be  king,  in 


A  richly  dressed  lady  came  down  the  steps.' 


58 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


spite  of  himself,  and  it  was  to  his  wife  that  he  would  owe  his 
crown. 

Loppi  had  no  wish  to  reign.  He  breakfasted  well  and  dined 


better  ;    his   desires 
went    no  further.      But 
he  loved  his  repose  before 
everything,  and    he   could 
not  be  ignorant  that,  with 
his  beloved  better  half,  he 
could    enjoy    repose    only 
on  condition  of  submitting 
to  madame's  will  and  ca- 
prices.    He  scratched  his 
head  and  sighed ;  it  is  even  said  that  he  swore  a  little ;  but 
he  set  out,  and  on  reaching  the  pond  called  in  a  tender  voice 
to  his  dear  friend  the  crawfish. 


The  Fairy  Crawfish,  59 

He  saw  the  black  claws  rise  from  the  water,  and  heard 
the  "  What  do  you  want,  brother  ?"  but  stood  for  some  time 
without  speaking,  himself  appalled  by  the  temerity  of  his  re- 
quest.    At  last  he  answered, 

" Nothing  for  myself.  What  have  I  to  wish  for?  But  my 
wife  is  beginning  to  be  tired  of  being  a  baroness." 

"  What  does  she  want,  then  ?"  asked  the  fairy. 

"  Alas  1"  murmured  Loppi,  "  she  wants  to  be  a  queen." 

"  Ho,  ho !"  cried  the  crawfish.  "  It  was  a  lucky  thing  for 
her  and  you  that  you  saved  my  life ;  this  time  also  I  will 
grant  your  wife's  wish.  Hail,  husband  of  a  queen,  I  wish 
you  much  joy  !     Good-evening,  Prince  Consort !" 

When  Loppi  returned  home  the  castle  had  become  a  pal- 
ace ;  Masicas  was  a  queen.  Valets,  chamberlains,  and  pages 
were  rushing  about  in  all  directions  to  execute  the  commands 
of  their  sovereign. 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  the  wood-cutter,  "  I  have  found 
rest  at  last!  Masicas  is  at  the  top  of  the  ladder;  she  can 
climb  no  higher;  and  she  has  so  many  around  her  to  do 
her  will  that  I  can  sleep  in  peace  without  her  insisting  on 
waking  me." 

Nothing  is  more  fragile  than  the  happiness  of  kings,  unless 
it  be  that  of  queens.  Two  months  had  hardly  passed  when 
Masicas  had  a  new  whim.     She  sent  for  Loppi. 

"I  am  tired  of  being  queen,"  she  said;  *'I  am  sick  to 
death  of  the  platitudes  of  these  courtiers.  I  wish  to  rule  over 
free  men.  Go  for  a  last  time  to  the  fairy,  and  make  her 
give  me  what  I  desire." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Loppi,  "if  a  crown  does  not  satisfy 
you,  what  will  ?    Perhaps  you  would  like  to  be  God  himself?" 

"  Why  not  ?"  answered  Masicas,  coolly.  "  Would  the  world 
be  any  the  worse  governed?" 

On  hearing  this   blasphemy,  Loppi  gazed   at  his  wife. 


**  The  castle  had  become  a  palace  j  Masicas  was  a  queen.* 


The  Fairy  Crawfish,  '6i 

aghast.  The  poor  woman  had  evidently  lost  her  mind. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Say  and  do  what  you  like,"  said  he, "  I  shall  not  trou- 
ble the  fairy  with  such  folly." 

"  We  will  see  about  that,"  cried  the  queen,  in  a  rage. 
**  Do  you  forget  who  I  am  ?  Obey  me  instantly,  or  off  goes 
your  head." 

"  I  will  go  as  fast  as  I  can,"  cried  the  wood-cutter.  "  I 
may  as  well  die  one  way  as  another,"  thought  he ;  "  as  well 
by  the  hand  of  the  fairy  as  that  of  my  wife.  Perhaps  the 
crawfish  will  have  pity  on  me." 

He  staggered  like  a  drunken  man,  and  found  himself  on 
the  edge  of  the  pond  without  knowing  how  he  came  there. 
He  cried  at  once,  in  despairing  accents, 

"  Crawfish,  dear  friend, 
Succor  pray  lend." 

There  was  no  answer.  The  pond  remained  silent;  not 
even  the  buzz  of  a  fly  was  heard.  He  called  a  second  time ; 
there  was  no  echo.     Terrified,  he  called  a  third  time. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  said  a  harsh  voice. 

"  Nothing  for  myself  What  have  I  to  wish  for  ?  But  the 
queen,  my  wife,  makes  me  come  here  for  the  last  time." 

"  What  more  does  she  want  ?" 

Loppi  fell  on  his  knees. 

"  Forgive  me,  it  is  not  my  fault !     She  wants  to  be  God." 

The  crawfish  rose  half-way  out  of  the  water,  and,  stretching 
a  threatening  claw  towards  Loppi,  cried, 

"Your  wife  deserves  to  be  shut  up  in  prison,  and  you  to 
be  hung,  wicked  fool.  It  is  the  cowardice  of  husbands  that 
causes  the  folly  of  wives.  To  your  kennel,  wretch,  to  your 
kennel !" 

And  she  dived  into  the  pond  in  such  a  rage  that  the  wa- 
ter  hissed  as  if  a  red-hot  iron  had  been  dipped  in  it 


62 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


\^'<^icm=z^ 


Loppi  fell  face  downward  upon  the  ground  as  if  struck  by 
lightning.  When  he  set  out  for  home,  with  hanging  head, 
he  knew  but  too  well  the  road  he  had  travelled  so  often  ;  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  bordered  with  puny  birches  and  sickly 
firs,  stagnant  pools  here  and  there,  and,  farther  on,  a  wretched 
hovel;  he  had  relapsed  into  direr  want  than  ever. 

What  would  Masicas  say,  and  how  should  he  comfort  her : 
He  had  not  much  time  for  these  melancholy  thoughts ;  for 
a  hag,  in  tatters,  flung  herself  on  his  neck  as  if  to  strangle 
him. 

"Here  you  are  at  last,  you  monster!"  cried  she.  "It  is 
you  that  have  ruined  us  by  your  stupidity  and  folly.  It  is 
you  that  have  enraged  your  accursed  crawfish.      I  might 


The  Fairy  Crawfish. 


63 


tfK^- 


have  expected  it.  You  never  loved  me ;  you  never  did  any- 
thing for  me ;  you  have  always  been  a  selfish  wretch.  Die 
by  my  hand !" 

She  would  have  torn  out  his  eyes,  if  he  had  not  with  great 
difficulty  held  both  her  arms. 

"  Take  care,  Masicas,  be  quiet ;  you  will  hurt  yourself." 
It  was  lost  labor ;  Loppi  felt  himself  giving  way,  when 
suddenly  the  veins  in  the  throat  of  the  fury  swelled,  her  face 
turned  purple,  she  threw  herself  back,  flung  up  her  arms,  and 
fell  heavily  on  the  ground.  She  was  dead ;  rage  had  killed 
her. 


64  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

Loppi  mourned  for  his  wife,  as  every  good  husband  ought 
to  do.  He  buried  her  with  his  own  hands  under  a  great 
fir-tree  in  the  neighborhood.  Over  the  grave  he  placed  a 
stone,  and  surrounded  the  whole  with  a  rough  wall  to  keep 
off  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest.  This  sad  duty  fulfilled,  he 
returned  home  and  strove  to  forget 

But  he  fell  a  prey  to  despair;  he  was  not  made  to  live 
alone.  "  What  shall  I  do ;  what  will  become  of  me  ?"  he 
cried,  weeping.  *'  Here  I  am,  solitary,  forsaken,  a  burden  to 
myself.  Who  will  think  for  me,  choose  for  me,  speak  for 
me,  and  act  for  me,  as  my  dear  wife  used  to  do  ?  Who  will 
waken  me  a  dozen  times  in  the  night  to  tell  me  what  I  must 
do  to-morrow  ?  I  am  nothing  but  a  body  without  a  soul,  a 
corpse.  My  life  fled  with  my  beloved  Masicas.  I  have 
nothing  left  but  to  die." 

He  spoke  truly.  Early  the  next  winter,  a  peasant  on  his 
way  through  the  forest  saw  a  man  lying  in  the  snow.  It  was 
Loppi,  who  had  been  dead  a  week — dead  of  cold,  hunger,  and 
sorrow,  without  a  friend  or  neighbor  to  close  his  eyes.  His 
icy  fingers  grasped  an  awl,  with  which  he  had  traced  on  the 
stone  this  last  tribute  to  her  who  had  been  the  delight  o\ 
his  life — 

TO   THE 

BEST  OF   WIVES, 

FROM   THE 

MOST   INCONSOLABLE  OF   HUSBANDS. 


FRAGOLETTE. 


In  the  neighborhood  of  Mantua  there  once  lived  an  orphan, 
already  a  tall  girl,  who  went  to  school  every  morning  with  her 
books  and  dinner-basket.  The  school  was  not  far  off,  but 
it  took  a  long  time  to  go  there,  for  the  way  led  along  a 
ditch,  lined  with  bushes  and  great  trees,  full  of  blossoms, 
fruit,  birds,  and  butterflies,  according  to  the  season.  Who 
could  help  stopping  to  look  at  all  these  wonders  of  creation  ? 
5 


66 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


One  day  our  school-girl  spied  in  the  heart  of  a  wild  rose 
the  prettiest  blue  butterfly  that  ever  was  seen.  She  held 
her  breath,  as  she  advanced  on  tiptoe,  and  gently  raised  her 
hand,  when  the  butterfly  slipped  through  her  fingers,  flut- 
tered to  the  right  and  left,  and  settled  a  little  higher  up  the 
slope.      She  followed,  it  flew  away,  alighted  on   a  flower 

farther  up,  and  flitted  thus 
from  place  to  place,  until  it 
led  her  up  the  side  of  the 
ditch,  near  a  walled  enclos- 
ure, which  bore  a  bad  repu- 
tation in  the  neighborhood. 
This  was  the  spot,  it  was  said, 
where  the  fairies  danced  in 
a  ring  on  Midsummer  Eve, 
and  witches  held  their  Sab- 
baths on  dark  winter  nights. 
Although  the  walls  had  crum- 
bled in  many  places,  and  fill- 
ed up  the  ditch,  no  Christian 
dared  venture  into  this  ac- 
cursed place ;  but  butterflies 
have  no  scruples,  and  chil- 
dren are  like  butterflies. 

Our  blue-winged  traveller 
unceremoniously  entered  this 
garden,  which  looked  like  a  virgin  forest,  and  the  little  girl 
followed,  carried  away  by  the  pleasure  of  the  chase.  But 
scarcely  had  she  pushed  through  a  clump  of  bushes  when 
she  stopped  short  and  cried  out  with  wonder.  Before  her 
was  a  meadow,  bordered  with  large  trees,  and  dotted  with 
red  and  black  spots  which  enamelled  the  turf  They  were 
great,  luscious  strawberries,  strawberries  that  had  no  owner. 


Fragolette, 


67 


and  that  offered  themselves  to  any  one  ready  to  profit  by 
this  wasted  treasure.  Forgetting  the  butterfly,  the  school- 
girl threw  herself  on  her  knees  in  the  grass,  and,  in  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  filled  her  basket ;  after  which  she  took 
to  her  heels,  and  arrived  at  the  school  out  of  breath,  and 
with  cheeks  redder  than  the  strawberries  she  had  gathered. 
She  was  scolded  for  coming  so  late  j  but  she  was  so  proud 
and  happy  that  she  did  not  hear  a  word  that  was  said 
to  her.  What  is  the  use  of  laying  down  the  law  to  con- 
querors ! 

At  luncheon-time  she  divided  her  treasure  with  her  little 
friends,  who  could  not  sufficiently  praise  her  courage  and 
good  luck.  She  seemed  like  a  queen  surrounded  by  a  host 
of  courtiers.  Nothing  was  wanting  to  her  triumph.  They 
called  her  Fragolette,  which  means  in  French,  Little  Straw- 


68  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

berry,  and  this  title  she  kept  all  her  life.  At  least,  it  is  the 
only  name  by  which  she  is  known  in  history. 

It  is  true  that  there  were  timid  souls  who  could  not  rid 
themselves  of  certain  scruples.  While  eating  the  strawberries, 
they  questioned  whether  it  might  not  be  tempting  the  devil 
to  rob  him  on  his  own  ground ;  but  these  idle  murmurs  were 
lost  in  the  tumult  of  victory ;  and  no  one  paid  any  attention 
to  them. 

It  would  have  been  better  to  have  listened  to  them,  as  the 
sequel  of  our  story  proves.  Intoxicated  with  her  good  fort- 
une and  popularity,  Fragolette  returned  again  and  again  to 
the  spot,  and  finally  began  to  look  upon  the  place  as  her 
own.  "  It  is  a  deserted  field,"  she  thought,  "  whose  fruit  is 
devoured  by  the  blackbirds  and  thrushes ;  and  surely  a 
Christian  has  quite  as  much  right  to  it  as  the  birds." 

One  day,  however,  when  she  was  gathering  her  harvest, 
as  usual,  a  frightful  blow  on  the  head  stretched  her  on  the 
ground.  "I  have  caught  you,  you  thief,"  cried  a  terrible 
voice,  "  you  shall  pay  for  this !" 

Stunned  by  the  blow,  Fragolette  tried  to  rise,  when  she 
saw  before  her  a  figure,  the  very  sight  of  whom  froze  her 
with  horror.  It  was  a  tall,  thin,  yellow,  wrinkled  old  woman, 
with  red  eyes,  and  a  nose  like  the  beak  of  a  vulture.  From 
her  gory  mouth  projected  two  teeth,  longer  and  sharper  than 
a  wild  boar's  tusks.  Fragolette  tried  to  stammer  an  apology ; 
but  the  old  woman,  who  was  a  witch,  and  an  ogress  into  the 
bargain,  did  not  deign  to  hear  a  word ;  she  tied  her  hands 
behind  her,  wound  a  rope  seven  times  round  her  waist,  and 
made  a  running  knot  in  it,  through  which  she  passed  the 
handle  of  the  enormous  broom  with  which  she  had  knocked 
down  the  child. 

Then,  muttering  in  the  devil's  language  some  of  those 
horrible  words  which   make  the   earth   tremble  and  the 


'■*  When  she  was  gathering  her  harvest,  as  usual,  a  frightful  blow  on  the 
head  stretched  her  on  the  ground." 


70  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

heavens  turn  pale,  she  seated  herself  astride  the  broomstick, 
and  darted  like  an  arrow  through  the  air,  carrying  with  her 
the  unhappy  Fragolette,  suspended  in  space,  like  a  spider 
hanging  from  its  web. 

If  she  had  ever  studied  geography  she  might  have  enjoyed 
the  magnificent  spectacle  spread  out  beneath  her,  of  beauti- 
ful Italy,  bordered  by  the  snowy  Alps  and  the  blue  ocean, 
and  traversed  by  the  verdant  ridges  of  the  Apennines  ;  but  in 
those  days  women  spun  on  their  distaffs  at  home,  and  troub- 
led themselves  little  about  what  was  taking  place  in  China 
and  Peru — geography  was  of  small  use  to  them ;  and,  be- 
sides, the  poor  child  was  too  frightened  to  open  her  eyes. 
She  passed  over  Vesuvius  and  Etna  without  seeing  them, 
and  was  more  dead  than  alive  when  the  magic  broomstick 
descended  to  the  earth  amid  the  forests  of  Sicily. 

"Up,  little  brigand,"  said  the  witch,  pulling  her  by  the 
hair,  "  you  belong  to  me  now  ;  begin  your  work.  Go,  set  the 
table  in  the  dining-room.  How  I  should  like  to  eat  you  if 
you  were  not  so  thin!"  she  added,  feeling  her  arms;  "but 
in  my  house  people  soon  grow  fat,  and  you  will  lose  nothing 
by  waiting."  With  this  horrible  jest,  she  opened  wide  her 
great  mouth,  and  licked  her  lips  with  a  smile  that  made  poor 
Fragolette  shudder. 

The  dinner  was  not  very  merry;  as  may  be  thought.  The 
old  woman  greedily  devoured  a  roast  of  cat,  mice  in  jelly, 
and  stewed  turnips.  Fragolette  gnawed  a  crust  of  bread, 
and  threw  herself,  in  tears,  on  a  wretched  pallet  that  was 
laid  for  her  in  a  corner.  Happily,  she  was  of  the  age  when 
slumber  is  stronger  than  sorrow,  and  she  had  scarcely 
touched  the  ground  when  she  fell  asleep. 

XL 
The  day  after  this  sad   adventure  Fragolette's  slavery 


Fragolette. 


71 


began.  Every  morning  she  was  forced  to  sweep  and  dust 
the  whole  house,  cook  the  meals,  set  the  table,  wash  the 
dishes,  and,  what  was  worst,  help  to  dress  her  frightful  mis- 
tress. She  stood  for  whole  hours  curling  the  only  three 
hairs  that  the  ogress  had  on  her  head,  after  which  she  had 
to  clean  her  two  great  teeth,  and  put  rice-powder,  rouge,  and 
court-plaster  patches  on  her  face;  and  she  was  lucky,  indeed, 
when  all  this  painting  was  done,  if  she  was  let  off  with  three 
or  four  boxes  on  the  ear. 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  this  hard  life,  Fragolette  grew 
taller  and  prettier  every  day.  I  do  not  say  that  she  grew 
better,  for  she  was  not  one  of  those  good  creatures  that 
stoop  to  kiss  the  hand  that  strikes  them  ;  no,  indeed,  her 
blood  boiled  in  her  veins,  and  she  dreamed  only  of  rage  and 
vengeance.  The  old  hag  saw  this — people  always  fear  those 
whom  they  injure.  Often,  while  Fragolette  was  curling  her 
hair,  she  wondered  whether  her  servant  might  not  seize  the 
opportunity  to  throttle  her,  and  whether  it  would  not  be  wise 
to  be  beforehand  with  the  girl. 


72 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


One  day,  when  Fragolette  seemed  to  her  more  beautiful 
than  ever,  she  was  seized  with  anger  and  jealousy. 

"Talce  this  basket,"  said  she  to  the  young  girl,  "go  to  the 
fountain,  and  bring  it  back  full  of  water ;  if  you  do  not,  I 
will  eat  you  up." 

The  innocent  girl  ran  at  full  speed,  fancying  that  the 
basket  was  enchanted,  and  that  the  witch  was  amusing  her- 
self by  frightening  her,  as  usual.  She  dipped  the  basket 
into  the  fountain,  but,  on  lifting  it  up,  the  water  all  ran  out, 
as  from  a  sieve.  Three  times  she  tried  to  fill  it,  and  three 
times  her  labor  was  in  vain.  At  last  she  understood  that 
the  ogress  meant  to  kill  her.  Filled  with  rage  and  despair, 
she  leaned  against  the  fountain  and  burst  into  tears.  Sud- 
denly she  heard  a  gentle  voice  saying,  "  Fragolette,  Frago- 
lette, why  do  you  weep  ?"  She  raised  her  head,  and  saw  a 
handsome  young  man  looking  at  her  tenderly. 


Fragolette. 


n 


"Who  are  you,"  she  said, "  and  how  do  you  know  my  name  ?" 
"  I  am  the  witch's  son,  and  my  name  is  Belebon.     I  know 
that  she  has  resolved  to  take  your  life,  but  she  shall  not  suc- 
ceed, I  promise  you.     Give  me  a  kiss  and  I  will  fill  your 
basket." 


"Kiss  the  son  of  the  witch!  Never!"  said  Fragolette, 
proudly. 

"  Well,  I  will  be  less  cruel  than  you,"  answered  the  young 
man.  And,  breathing  three  times  on  the  basket,  he  dipped 
it  into  the  fountain  and  drew  it  out  full  of  water.  Not  a 
drop  escaped. 


74  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

Fragolette  returned  to  the  house,  and  set  the  basket  on 
the  table  without  saying  a  word.  The  ogress  turned  pale 
as  death. 

"  Do  you,  by  chance,  belong  to  the  trade?"  said  she,  staring 
the  young  girl  full  in  the  face.  Then,  striking  her  forehead, 
she  said,  "  You  have  seen  Belebon,  and  he  has  helped  you ; 
own  it." 

"You  must  know,  since  you  are  a  witch." 

For  her  sole  answer  the  hag  dealt  her  such  a  box  on  the 
ear  that  she  had  to  cling  to  the  table  to  keep  from  falling. 

"  Ho,  ho !"  cried  the  witch, "  we  shall  see  who  will  win  !  He 
laughs  best  who  laughs  last !" 

The  next  day  the  ogress  said  to  Fragolette,  "I  am  going 
to  take  a  trip  to  Africa.  I  shall  be  back  this  evening.  You 
see  that  sack  of  wheat ;  it  must  all  be  made  into  bread  be- 
fore I  return.'  It  is  no  harder  than  to  carry  water  in  a 
basket.     If  you  do  not  succeed,  look  out  for  yourself!" 

Saying  this,  she  went  out  chuckling,  and  locked  the  door. 

"  This  time  I  am  lost,"  cried  the  young  girl.  "  How  can 
I  grind  the  grain,  and  knead  and  bake  the  bread  ?  I  have 
neither  mill  nor  oven,  nor  time  to  do  it."  She  beat  upon  the 
door  again  and  again,  hoping  to  break  it  open  and  escape. 
It  was  opened  by  Belebon. 

"  Fragolette,  Fragolette,"  said  he,  "  I  only  wish  to  do  you 
good ;  give  me  a  kiss,  and  I  will  make  the  bread  and  save 
you." 

"  Kiss  the  son  of  the  witch  !"  answered  Fragolette,  trem- 
bling.    "  Never !" 

"You  are  pitiless,  Fragolette,  but  I. cannot  let  you  die." 

He  whistled,  and,  behold,  from  all  the  holes  in  the  house 
came  a  host  of  rats  and  mice.  The  rats  carried  the  wheat 
to  the  mill,  and  came  running  back  with  a  sack  of  flour ; 
after  which,  they  heated  the  oven  while  the  mice  made  the 


Fragolette, 


75 


bread.  And  when  the  witch  returned  it  was  all  baked ;  and 
the  golden  loaves  were  piled  to  the  ceiling. 

"Wretch  !"  cried  the  old  woman,  "you  have  seen  Belebon^ 
and  he  has  helped  you  ;  own  it." 

"  You  must  know,  since  you  are  a  witch." 


The  ogress  dealt  her  a  savage  blow,  but  Fragolette  sud- 
denly stooped,  and  her  enemy  fell  forward,  striking  her  nose 
on  the  table,  and  turned  blue  with  rage  and  pain. 

"  Ho,  ho !"  cried  she,  "  we  shall  see  who  will  win  !  He 
laughs  best  who  laughs  last !" 


76  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

III. 

Three  days  later,  the  hag,  putting  on  her  most  smiling 
countenance,  called  Fragolette.  "  My  child,"  said  she,  "  go 
to  my  sister's  house,  ask  her  for  her  casket,  and  bring  it  to 
me." 

"  How  am  I  to  know  where  your  sister  lives,  or  what  she 
is  called  ?" 

"  Nothing  is  easier,"  answered  the  witch ;  "  go  straight  for- 
ward till  you  come  to  a  torrent  that  crosses  the  road,  ford  it, 
and  a  little  farther  on  you  will  see  an  old  castle,  with  an  iron 
gate,  where  my  sister,  Viperine,  lives.  Go,  and  hurry  back, 
my  child." 

"What  a  miracle !"  thought  Fragolette;  "the  old  witch  is 
in  good-humor." 

Saying  this,  she  set  out  with  a  light  step.  On  the  way  she 
met  Belebon,  who  was  waiting  for  her. 

"  Where  are  you  going  this  morning  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  going  to  my  mistress's  sister,  to  fetch  back  her 
casket." 

"  Unhappy  girl !"  cried  Belebon,  "  you  are  sent  to  your 
death.  No  one  ever  quitted  Viperine's  castle  alive.  But  I  can 
save  you.     Give  me  a  kiss,  and  I  will  answer  for  your  safety," 

"  No,  I  will  never  kiss  the  son  of  a  witch  !" 

"  Fragolette,  Fragolette,  you  are  ungrateful ;  but  I  love  you 
better  than  my  life,  and  will  save  you  in  spite  of  yourself. 
Mark  me  well ;  when  you  have  reached  the  brink  of  the  tor- 
rent, you  must  say,  *  Beautiful  river,  let  me  pass  through  thy 
silvery  waters  !'  Then  take  this  bottle  of  oil,  loaf  of  bread, 
rope,  and  small  broom.  On  reaching  the  iron  gate  of  the 
old  castle,  rub  the  hinges  with  oil  and  it  will  open  of  its  own 
accord.  A  great  dog  will  spring  at  you,  barking ;  throw  him 
this  bread  and  he  will  stop.      In  the  courtyard  you  will  see 


Fragolette. 


77 


a  poor  woman  drawing  water  from  the  well  by  tying  the 
bucket  to  her  braids  of  hair;  offer  her  this  rope;  go  up  the 
steps  and  you  will  find  in  the  kitchen  another  woman  clean- 
ing the  oven  with  her  tongue,  give  her  this  broom.  Then  go 
into  the  chamber  where  Viperine  is  asleep ;  the  casket  is  on 
a  cabinet,  seize  it,  and  escape  as  fast  as  you  can.  If  you 
obey  me  you  will  not  die." 


#ffii^ 


'  The  gate,  rubbed  with  oil,  opened  of  its  own  accord. 


Fragolette, 


79 


Fragolette  forgot  nothing  that  Belebon  had  told  her.  On 
the  brink  of  the  torrent,  she  cried,  "  Beautiful  river,  let  me 
pass  through  thy  silvery  waters!"  and  the  nymph  of  the 
torrent  answered  in  her  sweetest  tones,  "  Pass,  lovely  girl," 
whereupon  the  waters  parted  so  that  she  passed  over  dry- 
shod.  The  gate,  rubbed  with  oil,  opened  of  its  own  ac- 
cord.    The  dog  pounced  on  the  bread,  turned  round,  curled 


himself  up,  and  lay  down,  his  head  on  his  paws,  looking 
lovingly  at  Fragolette.  The  two  women  joyfully  took  the 
gifts  that  were  brought  them,  and  our  heroine  noiselessly 
entered  the  room  where  Viperine  lay  snoring.  She  ran  to 
the  cabinet  and  seized  the  casket.  Her  heart  beat  loudly,  and 
she  thought  herself  saved,  when  suddenly  the  witch  awoke. 
Fragolette  was  already  on  the  steps. 


8o 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


"  Ho !  ho !  there  I"  cried  Viperine  ;  "  woman  in  the  kitchen, 
kill  that  thief  for  me  !" 

"  Not  I,"  answered  the  victim ;  "  she  has  given  me  a 
broom,  while  you  make  me  clean  the  oven  with  my 
tongue." 


Fragolette, 


8i 


"  Woman  at  the  well,"  cried  the  witch,  '*  seize  that  thief 
and  drown  her !" 

"  Not  I,"  answered  the  victim ;  "  she  has  given  me  a 
rope,  while  you  make  me  draw  up  the  bucket  with  my 
hair." 

"  Dog,  tear  her  to  pieces !" 

"  Not  I,"  said  the  mastiff,  without  even  raising  his  head  ; 
'*  she  has  given  me  bread,  while  you  let  me  die  of  hunger." 

"  Door,  shut  her  in  !" 


82  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"Not  I,"  said  the  door;  "she  has  oiled  my  hinges,  while 
you  let  me  be  eaten  with  rust." 

The  witch  reached  the  bottom  of  the  steps  with  one  bound  ; 
but  the  door,  delighted  at  regaining  its  liberty,  swung  back 
and  forth  without  ceasing,  and,  just  as  Viperine  was  about 
to  go  out,  it  closed  upon  her  so  suddenly  that  she  was  nearly 
crushed  by  it. 

Fragolette  ran  on  without  looking  behind  her,  but,  in  her 
terror,  she  did  not  forget  to  pay  a  compliment  to  the  river, 
and  passed  over  as  before.  Viperine  was  close  behind  her. 
"  You  dirty  brook,"  said  she,  "  open  a  way  for  me  or  I  will 
dry  you  up !" 

The  torrent  parted  ;  but  when  Viperine  was  half-way  over 
the  waters  suddenly  rose,  and  closed  upon  the  witch,  who 
was  instantly  drowned.     The  nymph  had  avenged  herself. 

On  reaching  home,  Fragolette  gave  the  casket  to  her 
terrible  mistress.  What  a  figure  the  ogress  cut  can  well 
be  imagined.  "This  is  a  new  trick  of  Belebon's,"  she 
thought,  "  but  I  know  another  worth  two  of  that.  He 
laughs  best  who  laughs  last !" 

IV. 

That  night  she  made  Fragolette  sleep  in  her  room.  "  Mark 
me  well,"  said  she,  "  in  the  poultry -yard  there  are  three 
cocks,  one  red,  one  black,  and  the  third  white.  To-night, 
when  one  of  these  cocks  crows,  you  must  tell  me  which  it  is. 
Look  out  for  yourself  if  you  guess  wrong ;  I  will  make  but 
one  mouthful  of  you." 

"Belebon  will  not  be  here,"  thought  Fragolette;  "I  am 
lost,"  and  she  did  not  close  her  eyes  for  an  instant. 

At  midnight  a  cock  crew. 

"  Which  cock  was  it  that  crowed  ?"  asked  the  witch. 

"  Belebon,"  whispered  Fragolette,  "  tell  me  which  it  was." 


Fragolette. 


83 


"Give  me  a  kiss,"  murmured  a  voice,  "  and  I  will  tell  you." 

"  No." 

"  Cruel  girl,  I  will  not  let  you  die  ;  it  was  the  red  one." 

The  witch  sprang  from  her  bed  and  approached  Frago- 
lette. 

"  Answer,  or  I  will  eat  you  up." 

"  It  was  the  red  cock  that  crowed,"  said  Fragolette,  trem- 
bling. 

And  the  witch  went  back  to  bed,  grumbling. 

At  the  same  instant,  another  cock  was  heard. 


84  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Which  cock  was  it  that  crowed  ?"  asked  the  witch. 

And  Belebon  whispered  the  answer  to  his  beloved, 

"  It  was  the  black  one." 

And  the  witch  went  back  to  bed,  grumbling. 

At  daybreak,  the  cock  crew  again. 

"  Belebon,  help  me,"  cried  Fragolette. 

"  Give  me  a  kiss,"  said  he ;  "  I  have  borne  your  cruelty 
long  enough." 

And  behold,  the  witch  came  near,  opening  wide  her  gory 
mouth. 

"  Belebon,  Belebon,"  cried  the  child,  "  if  you  forsake  me,  it 
is  you  that  will  be  my  murderer !" 

"  It  was  the  white  cock,"  answered  Belebon,  unable  to  re- 
sist her  tenderness. 

"  It  was  the  white  cock,"  cried  Fragolette. 

"  No  matter,  traitress,"  exclaimed  the  ogress,  in  a  rage, 
"your  time  is  come;  you  must  die." 

With  these  words  she  fell  upon  her  prey. 

But  Fragolette,  young  and  agile,  slipped  from  her  hands, 
opened  the  window,  and  leaped  into  the  garden.  The  furious 
witch  prepared  to  follow  her,  but  her  foot  caught  in  the  win- 
dow, she  fell  head  foremost,  and  broke  off  both  her  teeth — 
those  teeth  on  which  her  power  and  life  depended.  Beneath 
the  window  lay  a  corpse ! 

V. 

Left  alone  with  Belebon,  Fragolette  soon  began  to  wonder 
what  would  become  of  her.  To  return  to  her  own  country 
scarcely  crossed  her  mind ;  she  was  an  orphan,  and  all  there 
had  forgotten  her.  To  stay  in  the  house  where  she  had  suf- 
fered so  much  was  also  out  of  the  question.  For  his  part 
Belebon  said  nothing;  he  was  happy  at  having  Fragolette 
near  him,  and  dared  not  think  of  the  future. 


Fragolette, 


85 


There  came  a  time,  however,  when  Fragolette  claimed  her 
liberty.  Belebon  dared  not  refuse  to  let  her  go ;  but  he  re- 
minded the  ungrateful  girl  of  all  he  had  done  for  her,  and 
offered  her  his  heart  and  hand. 

"  No,"  said  Fragolette,  "  I  will  not  marry  the  son  of  a 
witch." 

"Go,  then,"  said  poor  Belebon,  "go,  since  nothing  will  keep 
you.    But  before  leaving  this  house,  where  I  shall  die  without 


86  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

you,  give  me  at  least  one  token  of  friendship — the  only  one  I 
shall  have  ever  received  from  you.  Put  your  hand  in  mine 
and  forgive  me  the  crime  of  my  birth.  We  will  not  part  as 
strangers." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  took  and  covered  with 
kisses;  she  did  not  withdraw  it,  and  looked  at  him  in  a 
strange  fashion. 

"  Farewell,"  said  Belebon,  "you  take  with  you  my  happi- 
ness and  life.  Blessed,  a  hundred  fold  blessed,  be  him  to 
whom  you  give  this  hand." 

"  Since  you  have  it,  you  may  as  well  keep  it,"  said  she. 

He  fell  on  her  neck,  sobbing;  and  she,  the  capricious  girl, 
took  his  head  in  her  hands,  and  kissed  his  forehead,  laugh- 
ing and  crying  at  the  same  time.  No  one  can  ever  tell  what 
is  passing  in  the  heart  of  a  woman.  Two  days  after,  they 
were  married. 

Thus  ends  the  story ;  but  it  is  natural  to  ask  what  be- 
came of  the  pair.  Did  Eelebon  continue  his  mother's  wicked 
practices?  Did  Fragolette  and  her  husband  return  to  the 
life  of  common  mortals?  I  wrote,  on  this  subject,  to  a 
learned  Sicilian,  a  member  of  the  Academies  of  Catania, 
Agrigentum,  and  other  places,  and  this  is  his  answer  : 

"  Most  illustrious  and  reverend  seignior : — 

"  I  have  been  unable  to  find  in  our  ancient  chronicles  the 
name  of  either  Fragolette  or  Belebon.  Distrusting  my  own 
humble  erudition,  I  have  consulted  very  learned  brethren  of 
all  the  Academies,  and  their  answer  has  been  that  among 
all  the  peoples  who  successively  conquered  Sicily — Pelas- 
gians,  Sicanians,  Phoenicians,  Greeks,  Carthaginians,  Ro- 
mans, Arabs,  Normans,  Spaniards,  and  others — there  never 
had  been  seen  a  married  man  who  was  a  wizard.  We  have 
reason,  therefore,  to  believe,  by  analogy,  that  Belebon,  once 
married,  was  no  worse  than  the  rest." 


Fragolette, 


87 


Such  is  the  opinion  for  which  I  asked,  and  it  seems  to  me 
wise  and  just.  I  refer  the  point  to  my  readers,  both  male  and 
female,  and  especially  to  the  latter. 


^1^^^« 


THE   THREE  WISHES. 


There  was  once  a  wise  emperor  who  made  the  following 
law:  Every  stranger  who  comes  to  court  shall  be  served 
with  a  fried  fish.  The  attendants  shall  carefully  watch  the 
new-comer ;  and  if,  after  eating  the  fish  down  to  the  bone, 
he  turns  it  over  to  eat  the  other  side  also,  the  man  guilty  of 
this  unheard-of  crime  shall  be  instantly  arrested,  and  hung 
three  days  after.  But,  through  our  imperial  grace,  the  cul- 
prit may  each  day  make  a  wish,  which  shall  immediately  be 
granted,  provided  he  does  not  ask  for  his  life. 


The  Three  Wishes, 


89 


There  had  already  been  more  than  one  victim  to  this  legal 
caprice,  when  one  day  a  count,  followed  by  his  young  son, 
appeared  at  court.  The  two  noble  guests  were  welcomed  in 
the  warmest  manner ;  and,  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  the 
emperor,  a  fried  fish  was  served  up  to  them  in  the  midst  of 
their  repast.     Both  father  and  son  relished  it  heartily ;  and, 


90 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


after  eating  down  to  the  bone,  the  count  turned  over  the 
fatal  fish.  He  was  instantly  seized  by  two  attendants  and 
dragged  before  the  emperor,  who  ordered  him  to  be  thrown 
into  prison.-  This  filled  the  young  son  of  the  count  with 
such  grief  that  he  begged  the  emperor  to  let  him  die  in  his 
father's  stead.  As  the  emperor  was  not  cruel,  and,  provided 
some  one  was  hung,  cared  little  who  it  was,  he  accepted  the 
exchange,  shut  up  the  son  in  prison,  and  let  the  father  go  free. 
Once  in  his  dungeon,  the  youth  said  to  his  jailers,  "You 
know  that,  before  dying,  I  am  entitled  to  three  wishes.     Go 


'^■^,A^ 


The  Three  Wishes.  91 

to  the  emperor,  and  tell  him  to  send  me  his  daughter  and  a 
priest  to  marry  us  directly." 

A  man  more  astonished  than  the  emperor  at  this  insolent 
demand  it  would  be  hard  to  find.  But  a  sovereign's  word 
is  sacred,  and  he  can  hardly  break  his  own  law.  His 
daughter,  moreover,  was  resigned  to  this  three  days'  mar- 
riage ;  and,  like  a  good  father,  the  emperor  gave  his  con- 
sent. 

The  next  day  the  prisoner  asked  the  emperor  to  send  him 
his  treasure.  This  demand  was  little  less  audacious  than 
that  of  the  day  before  ;  but  what  can  be  refused  a  man  who 
is  to  be  hung  on  the  morrow  ?  The  emperor,  therefore,  sent 
him  his  money  and  jewels,  which  he  immediately  proceeded 
to  divide  among  all  the  courtiers ;  and  as  at  that  time  there 
chanced  to  be  those  at  court  who  were  weak  enough  to  be 
fond  of  money,  they  began  to  take  an  interest  in  this  poor 
young  man  who  had  been  so  well  brought  up. 

On  the  third  day,  the  emperor,  who  had  slept  badly,  went 
himself  to  the  culprit.  "  Come,"  said  he,  "  make  haste  to 
tell  me  your  last  wish,  which,  once  granted,  you  shall  be 
strung  up  without  delay,  for  I  am  beginning  to  be  a  little 
tired  of  your  unreasonable  demands." 

"  Sire,"  said  the  youth,  "  I  have  but  one  more  favor  to  en- 
treat of  your  majesty,  after  which  I  shall  die  contented.  It 
is  to  put  out  the  eyes  of  all  those  who  saw  my  father  turn 
over  the  fish." 

"Very  well,"  answered  the  emperor.  "Your  demand  is 
quite  natural,  and  does  credit  to  your  goodness  of  heart." 

Upon  which  he  arrested  the  major-domo. 

"  I,  sire !"  cried  the  major-domo ;  "  I  saw  nothing  of  the 
kind  ;  it  was  the  cupbearer." 

"  Seize  the  cupbearer,"  cried  the  emperor,  "  and  put  out 
his  eyes." 


92 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


But  the  cupbearer  declared,  with  tears,  that  he  had  seen 
nothing ;  he  referred  to  the  taster,  who  referred  to  the  but- 
ler, who  referred  to  the  pantler,  who  referred  to  the  first 
waiter,  who  referred  to  the  second,  who  referred  to  the  third ; 
in  short,  no  one  had  seen  the  count  turn  over  the  fish. 

"  Father,"  said  the  princess,  "  I  appeal  to  you  as  a  second 
Solomon.  If  no  one  saw  it,  the  count  is  not  guilty,  and  my 
husband  is  innocent." 


¥^*#fk 


/rjcj 


^<S^^^  S:^S§^^:ScM^^:^^  ,^^2::^:=^. 


The  Three  Wishes, 


93 


The  emperor  frowned,  and  the  court  at  once  began  to 
murmur ;  he  smiled,  and  every  mouth  grinned  from  ear  to 
ear. 

"  All  right,"  said  he ;  "  let  this  handsome  innocent  live. 
I  have  hung  more  than  one  who  was  no  more  guilty  than  he. 
But  if  he  is  not  hung,  he  is  married;  justice  is  done." 


777^   GOLDEN  FLEECE, 

A    SERVIAN    FAIRY    TALE. 

I  LOVE  the  Servians ;  they  are  a  brave  people,  who  remind 
me  of  the  heroes  of  Homer.  Their  war-songs  are  epics,  and 
their  fairy  tales  have  the  freshness  and  grace  of  the  marvel- 
lous stories  of  the  East.  As  a  specimen,  here  is  one  of  the 
most  celebrated,  which  an  aged  spinster  on  the  banks  of 
the  Morava  lately  related  to  Vouk  Stephanovitch. 

At  Kroujevatz  there  was  once  a  hunter  by  the  name  of  lan- 
ko  Lazarevitch.  He  was  the  king  of  the  mountain.  Though 
his  only  worldly  wealth  was  a  little  cottage  surrounded  by 
an  orchard,  he  lived  there  in  peace  and  plenty,  with  his  wife 
and  child.  His  bees  supplied  him  with  honey,  his  plum-trees 
furnished  him  the  best  brandy  in  the  country,  and,  thanks 
to  his  carbine,  game  was  never  lacking  on  his  table.     The 


The  Golden  Fleece,  95 

rich  have  their  fields,  mines,  and  treasures ;  lanko  had  his 
forest.  The  hares,  roes,  and  bucks,  for  ten  miles  round; 
belonged  to  him  ;  and  when  fine  fox-skins  or  superb  bear- 
furs  were  wanted  at  Belgrade,  Widna,  Pesth,  or  even  Con- 
stantinople, to  whom  did  men  go  for  them  but  to  lanko,  the 
hunter  of  Kroujevatz  ? 

Happiness  is  like  the  flower  of  the  fields ;  it  withers  in  a 
day.  On  a  fine  winter's  night,  as  lanko  was  lying  in  wait 
for  game,  he  spied  a  strange  light  in  the  distance.  The  for- 
est-trees were  lighted  up  for  an  instant  as  if  by  a  passing 
torch,  then  fell  again  into  shadow,  while  the  light  went  on. 
At  the  same  time  he  heard  a  heavy  tread  and  the  sound  of 
crackling  boughs.  lanko  instantly  quitted  his  hiding-place, 
and  ran  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  when  there  rushed  from 
the  forest  a  huge  ram,  whose  eyes  darted  fire,  and  whose 
fleece  glittered  like  the  sun.  He  raised  his  carbine,  but  the 
beast  sprang  upon  him  quicker  than  lightning,  and  hurled 
him  to  the  ground. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  some  wood-cutters,  on 
their  way  to  work,  found  the  poor  hunter  stretched  on 
the  earth,  and  already  cold  in  death.  Two  deep  wounds 
were  in  his  breast,  from  which  his  life-blood  had  ebbed. 
The  wood-cutters  carried  the  body  of  their  brave  comrade 
back  to  town  ;  he  was  buried,  and  all  was  over.  In  the 
happy  dwelling,  which  had  so  often  rung  with  lanko's  merry 
songs,  nought  was  heard  but  the  wails  of  a  widow  and  the 
sobs  of  a  child. 

Joyous  or  sad,  the  years  pass  away,  bearing  with  them  our 
pleasures  and  sorrows.  Stoian,  the  son  of  lanko,  grew  up 
to  manhood,  and  his  chief  desire  was  to  be  a  hunter.  His 
father's  blood  flowed  in  his  veins,  and,  while  still  a  child,  it 
had  been  his  greatest  delight  to  look  at  and  handle  the  car- 
bine hanging  on  the  wall.     But,  when  he  asked  his  mother 


tfi 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


to  give  him  the  fatal  weapon  and  let  him  go  to  the  forest, 
the  poor  woman  burst  into  tears. 

"No,  my  child,"  she  said,  "nothing  will  induce  me  to 
give  you  that  carbine.  I  have  already  lost  my  husband 
through  it,  and  must  I  also  lose  my  son  ?"  Stoian  held  his 
peace,  and  kissed  his  mother,  but  the  very  next  morning  he 


The  Golden  Fleece,  97 

renewed  his  entreaties,  and  was  so  tender  and  caressing, 
and  promised  to  be  so  prudent,  that  she  finally  yielded. 

Early  in  the  morning  Stoian  hastened  to  the  mountain, 
intoxicated  with  joy.  He  hunted  all  day  long,  and  at  night 
took  up  his  watch  at  the  very  spot  where  his  father  was 
killed. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  the  tired  young  hunter  was  falling 
asleep  in  spite  of  himself,  when  he  was  aroused  by  a  loud 
noise.  He  perceived  a  strange  light ;  he  saw  the  forest- 
trees  lighted  up  one  after  another,  as  if  by  a  torch,  and 
heard  a  heavy  tread  and  the  sound  of  crackling  boughs. 
Without  quitting  his  hiding-place,  Stoian  raised  his  carbine 
and  commended  himself  to  God.  Suddenly  there  rushed 
from  the  forest  a  huge  ram,  whose  eyes  darted  fire,  and 
whose  fleece  glittered  like  the  sun. 

"  Stoian !  Stoian !"  he  cried,  "  I  killed  your  father,  and 
have  come  to  kill  you  !" 

"  No,"  answered  the  young  man ;  "  with  God's  help,  it  is  I 
who  will  kill  you." 

He  took  aim  so  truly  that  the  bullet  struck  the  ram  be- 
tween the  eyes.  He  sprang  in  the  air  and  fell  as  if  struck 
by  lightning. 

Stoian  threw  himself  on  the  beast,  and  was  beginning 
to  skin  it,  when  suddenly  there  appeared  at  his  side  a  tall 
woman  with  raven  tresses  and  green  eyes.  It  was  the  Vila, 
or  fairy  of  the  mountain. 

"Stoian,"  said  she, "you  have  delivered  me  from  an  ene- 
n^y  ;  take  my  hand ;  I  am  your  sister.  When  you  are  in 
need  of  help,  call  on  me." 

The  young  hunter  thanked  the  lady,  and  went  down  the 

mountain  to  Kroujevatz,  happy,  and  proud   of  his  game. 

The  fleece  of  the  ram  was  hung  on  the  wall,  where  it  lighted 

up  the  whole  cottage.     The  entire  province  came  to  admire 

■7 


98 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


it,  and  Stoian  was  proclaimed  king  of  the  mountain,  like  his 
father.  There  was  not  a  young  girl  that  did  not  smile  on 
him  as  he  passed  by. 

In  those  days  the  Turk  (whom  God  confound !)  was  mas- 
ter of  Servia.  Raschid,  the  pacha  of  Belgrade,  was  an  old 
janizary,  who,  perhaps,  had  been  brave  in  his  time,  but  who 


The  Golden  Fleece.  99 

was  now  nothing  but  a  coarse  and  selfish  old  man,  who 
spent  his  life  in  drinking,  smoking,  and  sleeping.  To  aid 
in  ruling  a  people  whose  language,  religion,  and  customs  he 
despised,  he  kept  near  him  a  renegade  from  none  knew 
where — one  of  those  miscreants,  without  faith  or  law,  who 
live  only  by  plunder.  Yacoub,  for  that  was  the  name  of 
this  honest  man,  had  a  low  forehead,  eyes  like  a  weasel's, 
a  nose  as  hooked  as  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  and  ten  fingers, 
even  crookeder  than  his  nose.  Of  all  the  words  in  the  lan- 
guage, the  one  he  knew  best  was  the  verb  take^  and  this  he 
conjugated  in  all  its  moods  and  tenses.  As  to  the  verb 
restore,  he  was  ignorant  of  it.  May  Satan  teach  it  to  him  to 
all  eternity ! 

It  is  a  common  saying  that  one  Turk  makes  more  havoc 
than  half  a  score  of  wolves,  and  that,  in  this  respect,  one 
renegade  is  equal  to  half  a  score  of  Turks.  Yacoub  did 
not  belie  the  proverb.  One  day,  when  Raschid  had  come 
to  Kroujevatz  to  hunt,  Yacoub,  according  to  custom,  set 
about  collecting  the  taxes  on  his  own  behalf.  It  is  just 
to  say,  however,  that  he  gave  something  to  his  master,  who 
gave  nothing  to  the  sultan. 

On  entering  the  house  of  Stoian  the  renegade  was  daz- 
zled by  the  golden  fleece.  His  eyes  sparkled  and  his  hands 
clenched  with  envy. 

"  My  son,"  said  he  to  the  young  hunter,  "  that  is  a  beauti- 
ful specimen.  The  pacha  ought  to  know  all  the  animals  of 
his  forests ;  carry  him  that  fleece.     It  belongs  to  him." 

"  The  fleece  is  mine,"  answered  Stoian,  "  and  I  shall  not 
give  it  away." 

"Who  talks  of  giving?"  returned  the  renegade;  "with 
the  great  men  of  earth  every  gift  is  a  barter.  The  pacha,  my 
master  and  yours,  is  too  generous  to  remain  under  obliga- 
tions to  a  raya." 


ICX) 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


**  I  do  not  sell  niy  property ;  I  keep  it,"  replied  Stoian. 

"  Weigh  your  words,  young  man,"  said  Yacoub,  with  a 
frown.  "Pride  goeth  before  a  fall,  and  the  pacha's  arm  is 
long.     I  want  this  fleece,  and  must  have  it." 

For  his  only  answer  Stoian  took  down  his  carbine,  and 
showed  the  renegade  the  door. 

"Don't  be  rash,  my  son,"  said  Yacoub,  hurrying  out; 
"  you  may  some  day  regret  not  taking  my  advice." 

On  his  return  to  the  palace,  the  renegade  found  Raschid 


The  Golden  Fleece,  idi 


gulping  down  glass  after  glass  of  the  white  wine  of  Semen- 
dria. 

"Taste  this  wine,"  said  he  to  Yacoub ;  "it  is  tokay.  If 
the  cadis  were  to  try  it,  they  would  give  their  whole  Koran 
in  exchange  for  a  bottle." 

"  The  vintage  is  excellent,"  answered  the  renegade,  "  but 


i62  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

it  is  not  as  good  as  the  white  wine  I  drank  at  Smyrna.  It 
is  true  that  the  pacha  there  has  a  vine  which  bears  grapes 
without  their  equal." 

"  He  is  very  fortunate,"  said  Raschid,  drinking  deeper  and 
deeper  every  moment. 

"  What  hinders  you  from  being  as  fortunate  as  he  ?"  contin- 
ued Yacoub.  "  There  is  in  this  country  a  certain  Stoian,  a 
kind  of  sorcerer,  who  could  plant  you  such  a  vine,  and  make 
it  bear  grapes  in  a  week.  But  perhaps  he  might  raise  some 
difficulties  about  it." 

"  Difficulties !"  exclaimed  the  Turk,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders. "  Send  a  janizary,  and  tell  him  that  if,  within  a  week, 
I  have  not  a  vine  as  fine  and  grapes  as  good  as  those  of 
Smyrna,  I  will  cut  off  his  head." 

"That  is  an  argument  that  admits  of  no  reply,"  said  Ya- 
coub, laughing  heartily.  He  added  to  himself,  "The  golden 
fleece  is  mine." 

On  receiving  this  terrible  message,  Stoian  burst  into  tears. 
"  Alas !  mother,  we  are  lost !"  he  exclaimed. 

"My  son,"  said  the  poor  woman,  "did  not  I  tell  you  that 
the  carbine  would  cost  your  life,  as  it  did  your  father's  ?" 

In  despair,  the  young  man  rushed  from  the  house,  and 
wandered  onward,  not  knowing  whither  he  went.  On  reach- 
ing the  mountain  he  met  a  young  girl,  who  said, 

"  Brother,  why  do  you  weep  ?" 

"  God  be  with  you  !"  answered  Stoian,  roughly ;  "  you  can- 
not help  me  in  my  trouble." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?"  rejoined  she  ;  "  it  is  by  trying  them 
that  we  learn  what  our  friends  are  worth." 

The  hunter  raised  his  head,  and  recognized  the  Vila.  He 
threw  himself,  weeping,  into  her  arms,  and  told  her  of  the 
wickedness  of  Yacoub  and  the  folly  of  the  pacha." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  said  the  fairy.     "  Courage,  brother !    I  am 


The  Golden  Fleece.  103 

here.  Go  to  the  pacha,  ask  him  where  he  would  like  to 
have  his  vine  planted,  and  tell  him  to  have  the  trenches 
dug.  Then  take  a  sprig  of  basil,  plant  it  in  the  trench,  and 
sleep  peacefully  in  the  new  garden.  Before  a  week  is  past 
you  will  gather  ripe  grapes." 

Stoian  did  as  the  Vila  had  bidden  him.  On  the  first  day 
he  planted  the  sprig  of  basil ;  but  he  had  little  confidence 
in  the  fairy's  promises,  and  went  to  sleep  with  a  heavy  heart. 
He  rose  before  daybreak,  and  ran  to  the  spot ;  the  shoots 
were  already  above  the  ground.  The  second  day  they  grew 
tall ;  on  the  third  they  put  forth  leaves ;  on  the  fourth  they 
blossomed.  On  the  sixth  day  the  grapes  were  golden,  al- 
though it  was  only  spring  -  time.  Stoian  gathered  and 
pressed  them,  and  carried  to  his  terrible  master  a  jug  of 
new  wine  and  a  plate  of  ripe  grapes. 

At  the  sight  of  this  wonderful  vintage,  every  one  was  as- 
tonished except  the  pacha,  who  thought  it  quite  natural,  and 
did  not  even  thank  poor  Stoian.  Nothing  is  easier,  says 
the  proverb,  than  to  catch  snakes  with  other  people's  hands. 

"  Well,"  said  Raschid  to  Yacoub,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
my  power  ?  I  am  not  a  sorcerer,  and  I  am  proud  of  it.  He 
who  wields  the  sword  needs  neither  wealth  nor  knowledge ; 
the  purse  and  brains  of  others  all  belong  to  him." 

"  I  marvel  at  your  highness's  genius,"  answered  the  rene- 
gade, bowing  low, "  and  hope  that  you  will  not  leave  your 
work  unfinished." 

"Is  anything  lacking  to  my  vineyard?"  asked  Raschid, 
with  a  dissatisfied  air. 

"  It  lacks  the  ivory  tower  which,  at  Smyrna,  is  the  admi- 
ration of  the  faithful  and  the  despair  of  unbelievers." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  the  pacha,  laughing.  "Come  here, 
young  man.  If,  in  a  month,  I  have  not  an  ivory  tower  like 
that  of  Smyrna,  I  will  cut  off"  your  head.     Hear  and  obey !" 


I04 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Stoian  ran  to  his  mother,  weeping.  "Alas,  we  are  lost!" 
he  cried. 

"  Go,  my  son,  hasten  to  the  mountain ;  perhaps  you  will 
find  there  our  friend  and  protectress." 

•The  young  man  hurried  -to  the  mountain,  and  called  the 
fairy  three  times.  She  came,  smiling,  and  listened  to  him 
with  tenderness. 


"^^^       % 


^?e- 


"  Is  that  all  ?"  she  said.  "  Courage,  brother !  I  am  here. 
Go  to  the  pacha,  and  ask  him  for  a  ship,  three  hundred  tuns 
of  wine,  two  hundred  pipes  of  brandy,  and  a  dozen  carpen- 
ters. Set  sail  and  steer  straight  ahead.  When  the  ves- 
sel is  between  two  mountains,  go  on  shore,  empty  the  pond 
that  you  will   see   there,  and  fill  it  with  wine  and  brai^- 


The  Golden  Fleece. 


105 


dy.  When  the  elephants  come  thither  at  night  to  quench 
their  thirst,  they  will  drink  until  they  fall  dead-drunk.  Let 
the  carpenters  saw  off  their  tusks,  and  you  will  have  a  full 


cargo  of  ivory.  Then  return  to  the  vineyard  with  your 
booty,  take  with  you  a  sprig  of  basil,  and  sleep  tranquilly 
in  this  new  garden  ;  in  a  week  the  tower  will  be  built." 

Stoian  did  all  that  the  Vila  had  bidden  him.  The  vessel 
anchored  between  two  mountains ;  they  emptied  the  pond, 
and  filled  it  with  wine  and  brandy.     At  nightfall  the  ele- 


io6  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

phants  came  thither  in  herds.  The  first  that  tasted  the 
brandy  seemed  astonished ;  but  he  soon  went  back  to  it 
with  delight,  and  the  rest  followed  his  example.  A  scene 
of  jollity,  noise,  and  general  confusion  followed.  The  whole 
elephant  nation  kept  holiday.  In  contempt  of  etiquette,  the 
king  of  the  elephants  danced  a  hornpipe,  and  the  queen 
waltzed  with  a  young  chamberlain.  The  whole  company 
soon  fell  sound  asleep,  and  the  carpenters  began  their  work. 
Do  not  blush  at  this  humiliation,  good  people  of  Elephant 
Land ;  you  are  not  the  first  nation  that  have  had  their  teeth 
filed  while  drunk  or  asleep,  and  you  will  not  be  the  last. 

On  his  return,  Stoian  had  the  huge  mass  of  ivory  piled  in 
the  garden.  From  his  hiding-place  behind  the  wall  Yacoub 
watched  the  young  hunter,  in  hopes  to  steal  his  secret ;  but 
Stoian  spent  the  whole  day  in  singing  plaintive  songs,  ac- 
companying himself  on  the  guzla.  When  night  cast  its  veil 
over  the  earth,  nothing  was  done.  Yacoub  went  away  rub- 
bing his  hands.  "  He  is  lost !"  he  thought ;  "  the  golden 
fleece  is  mine." 

But  the  next  morning  the  foundations  of  the  ivory  tower 
were  laid ;  the  day  after  it  had  risen  to  the  second  story ; 
and  on  the  sixth  day  it  was  finished,  with  its  dome  and  min- 
arets. For  ten  leagues  round  it  shone  in  the  sunlight  with 
a  brilliancy  more  dazzling  than  that  of  the  silver  moon- 
beams upon  the  waters. 

At  the  sight  of  this  marvellous  structure  all  were  aston- 
ished except  the  pacha,  who  thought  it  quite  natural,  and 
did  not  even  thank  poor  Stoian. 

"  Well,"  said  he  to  Yacoub,  stroking  the  handle  of  his  at- 
aghan,  "  what  do  you  think  of  my  power  ?" 

"  I  marvel  at  your  highness's  genius,"  answered  the  rene- 
gade, bowing  low, "  and  hope  that  you  will  not  leave  your 
work  unfinished." 


The  Golden  Fleece,  1 07 

"Is  anything  lacking  to  my  ivory  tower?"  asked  Raschid, 
with  a  dissatisfied  air. 

"  It  lacks  the  Princess  of  the  Indies.  Of  what  use  is  the 
ivory  tower  if  it  does  not  contain  the  masterpiece  of  crea- 
tion ?" 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  pacha.  "It  is  the  bird  that 
gives  value  to  the  cage.  Come  hither,  young  man,"  said  he 
to  Stoian.  "Go,  fetch  me  the  Princess  of  the  Indies.  If 
you  return  without  this  miracle  of  beauty,  I  will  cut  off  your 
head.     Hear  and  obey !" 

Stoian  ran  to  his  mother,  weeping. 

"  Alas !  we  are  lost,"  he  cried.  "  You  will  never  see 
your  child  again." 

"  Go,  my  son,  hasten  to  the  mountain ;  perhaps  you  will 
find  there  our  friend  and  protectress." 

The  young  man  hurried  to  the  mountain,  and  called  the 
fairy  three  times.  She  came,  smiling,  and  listened  to  him 
with  tenderness. 

"  Is  t^at  all  ?"  said  she.  "  Courage,  brother !  I  am  here. 
Go  to  the  pacha,  and  ask  him  for  a  large  ship.  In  this  ship 
build  twelve  fine  shops,  and  fill  them  with  rarer  stuffs  and 
jewels  than  are  to  be  found  in  all  the  bazaars  of  Constan- 
tinople. In  these  shops  put  twelve  of  the  handsomest 
youths  of  Servia,  dressed  like  princes.  Then  set  sail,  and 
when  the  ship  stops  between  two  mountains,  go  on  shore ; 
you  will  be  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Indies.  Take  your  guzla, 
sing  with  your  companions,  and  when  the  girls  of  the  coun- 
try come  to  the  fountain,  invite  them  to  see  the  treasures  in 
your  ship.  Make  them  presents;  they  will  be  delighted 
with  your  generosity,  and,  on  returning  home,  will  say  that 
never  was  there  seen  a  finer  ship,  richer  treasures,  or  more 
obliging  merchants.  Being  a  woman  and  a  princess,  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Indies  has  a  double  share  of  cu- 


io8  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

riosity.  She  will  come  to  see  you :  amuse  her  all  day,  but 
as  soon  as  night  falls,  weigh  anchor  and  set  sail.  But  when 
the  princess  is  on  board,  the  task  is  not  done.  She  is  a  ma- 
gician, and  may  put  you  more  than  once  in  danger.  Follow 
my  counsels,  however,  and  you  will  succeed." 

Saying  this,  the  fairy  drew  near  the  brook  that  trickled 
down  the  mountain,  and  called  a  salmon  that  was  swimming 
up  the  stream.  She  detached  a  scale  from  it,  which  she 
gave  to  Stoian. 

"  Take  this  talisman,"  said  she.  "  If  ever  you  need  a  ser- 
vice done  you  in  the  depth  of  the  sea,  throw  this  scale  into 
the  water,  and  call  my  brother,  the  salmon,  to  your  aid." 

Then,  raising  her  eyes  to  the  sky,  the  Vila  saw  a  falcon 
chasing  a  dove.  She  whistled,  and  both  birds  flew  to  her, 
and  perched  on  her  shoulder.  She  pulled  a  feather  from 
the  falcon's  crest,  and  another  from  the  wing  of  the  dove, 
and  gave  them  to  Stoian. 

"  Take  these  talismans,"  said  she ;  "and  if  ever  you  need  a 
service  done  you  in  the  air,  fling  these  feathers  on  the  breeze, 
and  call  to  your  aid  my  brother,  the  falcon,  and  my  sister, 
the  dove.  And  now  farewell,  brother.  I  have  exhausted  for 
you  all  the  secrets  of  my  art;  you  will  see  me  no  more." 

Stoian  thanked  his  sister,  the  Vila,  and  did  all  that  she 
had  bidden  him.  The  vessel  stopped  between  two  moun- 
tains ;  the  young  girls  came  to  the  fountain,  they  listened  to 
the  songs  of  Stoian,  they  came  on  board,  they  took  the 
choicest  gifts  without  much  urging,  and  that  very  evening 
they  repeated  throughout  the  town,  "  Never  was  there  seen 
a  finer  ship,  richer  treasures,  or  more  obliging  merchants." 

The  next  morning  the  Princess  of  the  Indies,  followed 
by  twelve  companions,  came  to  the  shore  in  a  magnificent 
howdah,  borne  by  the  gentlest  and  handsomest  of  ele- 
phants.    She  carried  on  her  shqi^lder  a  little  parrot,  that 


The  Princess  of  the  Indies,  followed  by  twelve  companions,  came  to 
the  shore." 


I  lo  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

diverted  her  with  its  chatter.  Stoian  hastened  to  meet  the 
lady,  and  did  her  the  honors  of  his  ship.  At  each  shop  the 
richest  stuffs  were  spread  before  her,  and  the  rarest  jewels, 
rings,  bracelets,  necklaces,  and  diadems  displayed  before 
her  eyes.  The  princess  and  her  attendants  were  as  fasci- 
nated as  larks  before  a  mirror ;  and  the  day  passed  without 
their  being  able  to  tear  their  astonished  and  delighted  gaze 
from  such  wonders. 

As  soon  as  night  fell  upon  the  sea  Stoian  weighed  anchor 
and  set  sail.  At  the  first  motion  of  the  ship  the  princess 
took  alarm :  she  hastened  on  deck,  and,  taking  the  parrot 
on  her  finger,  "  Fly,  dear  bird,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  my  fa- 
ther some  one  is  carrying  off  his  child." 

The  parrot  took  flight,  but  Stoian  instantly  flung  on  the 
breeze  the  falcon's  feather,  and  cried,  "  Brother  Falcon,  come 
to  my  aid !" 

And,  lo !  a  black  speck  was  seen  far  off  on  the  horizon ; 
the  falcon  darted  through  the  air,  pounced  upon  the  parrot, 
and  carried  it  to  a  rock  to  devour  it. 

The  princess  looked  at  Stoian  with  a  disdainful  air,  and 
threw  her  ring  into  the  sea,  when,  lo !  the  ship  instantly 
stopped  as  if  it  were  aground.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  wind 
filled  the  sails — a  hidden  power  held  the  vessel  motionless. 

Stoian  flung  into  the  waves  the  scale  of  the  salmon,  cry- 
ing, "  Brother  Salmon,  come  to  my  aid." 

He  had  not  done  speaking  when  the  rich  scales  of  a  huge 
salmon  were  seen  shining  through  the  water;  then  the  fish 
dived  and  caught  the  ring,  upon  which  the  vessel  floated 
swiftly  over  the  sea,  impelled  by  the  fairest  of  winds. 

The  princess  cried  out,  and  hastened  below  to  her  com- 
panions. At  daybreak  the  next  morning  she  came  again 
on  deck,  and  said  to  Stoian, 

"  With  a  word  I  could  turn  this  ship  to  stone,  and  you 


The  Golden  Fleece,  1 1 1 

would  never  more  see  your  country.  But  if  you  will  give 
me  the  water  of  immortality,  I  am  ready  to  go  with  you. 
Do  you  see  yonder  rock,  where  a  thick  smoke  is  rising? 
There  is  a  fountain,  guarded  by  two  dragons,  whose  nostrils 
breathe  fire.  No  one  has  ever  been  able  to  overcome  the 
vigilance  of  those  monsters,  who  sleep  neither  night  nor  day. 
If  you  can  succeed  where  all  others  have  failed,  and  can  fill 
this  little  flask,  I  will  be  your  most  devoted  friend  and  servant." 

For  his  only  answer  Stoian  seized  the  flask,  and,  flinging 
on  the  breeze  the  feather  of  the  dove,  cried, 

"  Sister  Dove,  come  to  my  aid  !" 

In  an  instant  a  dove,  white  as  snow,  perched  on  Stoian's 
shoulder ;  she  seized  the  flask  in  her  beak,  soared  high  in 
the  heavens,  and  vanished  from  sight.  In  an  hour  she  came 
flying  back,  and  Stoian  could  offer  the  princess  the  water 
of  immortality. 

"Thank  you,  my  friend,"  said  she,  in  the  tenderest  of 
tones.  "Now  you  have  nothing  more  to  fear  from  my 
power.     Say,  whither  are  you  taking  me.''" 

"  To  my  master,  the  pacha,"  answered  Stoian. 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  she ;  and,  drawing  her  veil  over  her  face, 
she  went  below,  and  did  not  speak  again  to  Stoian  for  the 
rest  of  the  voyage. 

When  it  was  learned  that  the  young  hunter  had  returned, 
there  was  universal  rejoicing  at  Kroujevatz.  The  people 
flocked  from  all  directions  to  see  the  entry  of  the  Princess  of 
the  Indies.  It  was  a  wonderful  spectacle.  First  came  the 
twelve  attendants,  each  mounted  upon  a  black  horse,  which 
was  led  by  the  bridle  by  one  of  Stoian's  companions.  Noth- 
ing more  magnificent  had  ever  been  seen  than  these  young 
men,  with  their  rich  garments,  girdles  glittering  with  gems, 
sabres  with  silver  scabbards,  and  inlaid  carbines.  But  all 
were  forgotten  at  the  sight  of  Stoian  and  his  conquest.     En- 


112  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

veloped  though  she  was  in  a  long  veil,  which  hid  all  but  hei 
great  black  eyes,  the  princess  eclipsed  her  companions  as 
the  moon  eclipses  the  stars.  Her  white  horse  seemed  proud 
to  carry  her.  All  the  men  admired  her  as  she  passed,  but 
the  women  looked  at  Stoian.  Handsome,  haughty,  and  mel- 
ancholy, he  attracted  the  gaze  of  all. 

On  entering  the  palace  where  the  pacha  was  awaiting  her 
the  princess  threw  aside  her  veil.  At  the  sight  of  this  mar- 
vellous beauty,  Raschid,  forgetting  his  age,  hastened  to  her 
with  a  tottering  step,  and  attempted  to  embrace  her.  But 
she  repulsed  him  so  roughly  that,  if  the  faithful  Yacoub  had 
not  been  at  hand,  the  pacha  would  have  bruised  his  nose  on 
the  ground,  in  spite  of  all  his  power. 

"  Ha !  beautiful  savage,"  cried  he,  "  what  has  your  faithful 
slave  done  to  be  treated  in  this  way?" 

"You  are  an  ill-bred  fellow,"  answered  the  princess. 
"You  ask  neither  my  name  nor  that  of  my  father;  you 
know  neither  who  I  am  nor  what  I  wish.  Am  I  a  dog  or  a 
hawk,  to  be  taken  thus  by  force  ?  Learn  that  he  who  mar- 
ries me  must  possess  a  twofold  youth,  that  of  the  soul  and 
that  of  the  body." 

"  I  have  a  very  youthful  soul,"  said  the  pacha.  "  As  to 
the  body,  I  should  ask  nothing  better  than  to  renew  its  age, 
were  it  only  to  marry  you,  and  live  long  by  your  side.  But 
how  is  it  to  be  done  ?" 

"  I  have  found  the  means,"  returned  the  princess.  "  This 
flask  contains  the  water  of  immortality.  Let  yourself  be  be- 
headed !  once  dead,  I  will  sprinkle  you  with  this  magic  wa- 
ter, and  will  make  you  as  young  and  handsome  as  at  twenty." 

The  pacha  made  a  grimace ;  then,  looking  round  him,  he 
saw  Stoian,  and  frowned. 

"I  believe  in  this  marvellous  water,"  said  he;  "but  I 
should  not  object  to  see  it  tried.    What  if  I  test  it  on  this 


"  Handsome,  haughty,  and  melancholy,  he  attracted  the  gaze  of  all.** 


114  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

fellow,  whose  looks  I  dislike,  I  know  not  why  ?     Come  here, 
raya  ;  to  make  you  young  again,  we  will  cut  off  your  head." 

"  I  am  young  enough  to  dispense  with  such  a  trial,"  an- 
swered Stoian,  looking  at  the  beautiful  East-Indian ;  "  but, 
though  I  perish,  I  will  not  shrink  from  danger.  What  mat- 
ters life  to  me?" 

At  a  sign  from  the  pacha  a  janizary  drew  his  sword,  and 
with  one  blow  struck  off  the  young  man's  head.  Every  one 
uttered  a  cry  of  horror  ;  but  the  princess  instantly  sprinkled 
the  quivering  body  with  her  marvellous  water ;  when,  lo ! 
Stoian  rose  full  of  life  and  health,  and  so  young  and  hand- 
some that  the  pacha,  wild  with  jealousy,  exclaimed, 

"  Make  me  young  again,  princess  !  Quick,  without  losing 
an  instant !" 

He  called  the  janizary  and  gave  him  his  orders;  then, 
seeing  Yacoub,  who  pretended  to  weep, 

"  Poor  Yacoub,"  he  said ;  "  my  faithful  friend  and  right 
hand,  I  cannot  let  you  remain  old  while  I  am  young ;  we 
should  no  longer  understand  each  other's  wants.  No,  my 
friend,  I  am  not  selfish ;  I  need  you,  and  we  must  both  re- 
new our  youth  together.  We  will  be  beheaded  at  the  same 
time." 

At  this  mark  of  friendship  Yacoub  turned  pale  as  death. 
He  opened  his  lips  and  tried  to  speak,  but  the  signal  was 
given,  and  at  the  same  instant  his  head  rolled  on  the  ground 
by  the  side  of  that  of  the  pacha. 

"Take  away  that  carrion,"  said  the  princess,  coldly,  "and 
throw  to  the  dogs  the  body  of  the  wretch  who  dared  treat 
me  with  insult." 

At  these  words  all  looked  at  each  other;  the  Turks 
frowned,  but  the  Servians  drew  their  sabres,  and  said,  "  The 
princess  is  right:  an  insult  recoils  on  him  who  dealt  it. 
Woe  to  him  who  does  not  respect  a  woman." 


The  people  flocked  from  all  directions  to  see  the  entrance  of  the  Prin- 
cess of  the  Indies." 


Ii6  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

An  old  Turk  responded, "  What  is  done  is  done.  No  one 
can  escape  his  fate." 

Peace  restored,  the  princess  said  to  Stoian,  "  Here  I  am, 
a  widow  without  being  married,  and  you  are  left  without  a 
master.     Are  you  not  going  to  take  me  back  to  my  father?" 

"No,"  cried  Stoian;  "the  dearest  right  of  a  Servian  is  to 
carry  off  his  wife,  and  I  have  twelve  companions  ready  to 
follow  my  example." 

"  Stoian,"  said  the  princess,  smiling,  "  you  know  that  I  dis- 
like violence.  What  need  is  there  of  carrying  me  off.?  Will 
it  not  suffice  to  take  me  to  your  mother's  house,  and  give 
me  a  place  at  your  fireside  ?" 

No  sooner  said  than  done,  and  the  same  day  saw  thirteen 
weddings  at  Kroujevatz. 

Raschid  had  more  than  one  successor,  and  there  was 
more  than  one  Yacoub ;  for  wherever  there  is  a  pacha  like 
Raschid,  there  is  also  a  flatterer  and  a  traitor ;  but  the 
wicked  profit  by  experience,  and  fear  holds  them  in  check. 
No  one  disturbed  Stoian,  and  all  respected  the  Princess  of 
the  Indies.  The  house  is  still  seen  where  the  pair  dwelt, 
and  strangers  are  shown  above  the  door  a  stone,  carved,  it 
is  said,  by  Stoian's  own  hands.  On  it  are  a  carbine  and  yat- 
aghan, crossed  ;  the  whole  surmounted  by  the  motto,  which 
is  the  delight  of  Servia  and  the  terror  of  the  Osmanli,  Svo- 
bodnosty  Liberty. 


POOR  HANS, 


Old  Hans  lay  dying.  His  pastor  sat  by  liis  bedside,  of- 
fering the  last  consolations. 

"  Alas  !"  said  old  Hans,  "life  is  small  loss  to  me.  I  have 
never  been  anything  but  a  poor  wretch,  bowed  down  with 
toil  and  pain.  Where  no  one  else  wanted  to  go,  there  poor 
Hans  was  sent;  and  when  others  overturned  the  cart,  it 
was  Hans  that  had  to  set  it  up  again." 

"  Rejoice  then,  my  friend,"  said  the  pastor,  "  your  suffer- 
ings will  soon  be  over.  Blessed  are  they  who  suffer,  for 
theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

"  Ah !"  cried  old  Hans,  "  I  am  sure  beforehand  that  it  will 
be  just  the  same  up  thefe.     Every  one  will  shout  after  me, 


Hans,  light  up  the  sun  !"  "  Hans,  put  out  the  moon  ^* 


Poor  Hans. 


119 


*  Hans,  light  up  the  sun  !'  *  Hans,  put  out  the  moon  !'  '  Hans, 
let  fly  the  thunder !'  '  Hans,  put  the  angels  to  bed !'  " 

And  without  even  heaving  a  sigh,  poor  Hans  closed  his 
eyes,  folded  his  hands,  and  breathed  his  last. 


ZERBINO  THE  SAVAGE, 


A   NEAPOLITAN   FAIRY  TALE. 


Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  Salerno  a  young  wood- 
cutter named  Zerbino.  Poor  and  an  orphan,  he  had  no 
friends ;  shy  and  taciturn,  he  spoke  to  nobody  and  nobody 
spoke  to  him.  As  he  never  meddled  with  other  people's  bus- 
iness, every  one  took  him  for  a  fool.  He  was  nicknamed 
The  Savage,  and  never  was  title  better  deserved.  In  the 
morning,  when  the  whole  town  was  still  asleep,  he  went  to 
the  mountain,  with  his  jacket  and  axe  on  his  shoulder; 
stayed  all  day  in  the  woods,  and  did  not  return  until  dusk, 
dragging  after  him  a  bundle  of  fagots  with  which  he  bought 
his  supper.  When  he  passed  the  fountain  where  the  young 
girls  of  the  neighborhood  congregated  every  evening  to  fill 
their  pitchers  and  empty  their  throats,  they  all  laughed  at 
his  glum  face,  and  made  a  butt  of  the  poor  wood-cutter. 
Neither  the  black  beard  nor  glittering  eyes  of  Zerbino  dis 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  121 

mayed  the  bold  huzzies,  who  vied  with  each  other  in  jeering 
at  the  simpleton. 

"  Zerbino  of  my  soul,"  cried  one,  "  speak  but  one  word  to 
me  and  I  will  give  you  my  heart." 

"  Delight  of  my  eyes,"  exclaimed  another,  "  let  me  hear 
the  sound  of  your  voice  and  I  am  yours." 

"  Zerbino  !  Zerbino  !"  cried  all  the  madcaps  in  chorus, 
"  which  of  us  will  you  take  for  a  wife  ?  Is  it  I  ?  Is  it  I  ? 
Which  one  will  you  have  ?" 

"  The  greatest  chatterbox  of  you  all,"  answered  Zerbino, 
shaking  his  fist  at  them ;  upon  which  they  cried, "  Thank 
you,  good  Zerbino,  thank  you  !" 

Pursued  by  shouts  of  laughter,  the  poor  savage  retreated 
home,  with  the  grace  of  the  wild  boar  fleeing  before  the 
hunter.  His  door  once  shut,  he  supped  on  a  crust  of  bread 
and  glass  of  water,  rolled  himself  in  a  ragged  old  coverlet, 
lay  on  the  bare  earth,  and  instantly  fell  into  a  dreamless 
slumber,  free  from  care  and  sorrow.  If  happiness  consists 
in  feeling  nothing,  Zerbino  was  the  happiest  of  men. 

11. 

One  day,  when  he  had  tired  himself  with  hacking  at  an  old 
box-tree  as  hard  as  flint,  Zerbino  thought  he  would  take  a 
nap  by  the  side  of  a  pool  surrounded  with  spreading  trees. 
To  his  great  surprise,  he  found  stretched  on  the  turf  there  a 
lady  of  marvellous  beauty,  arrayed  in  a  robe  of  swan's-down. 
The  stranger  seemed  to  be  in  a  nightmare  ;  with  drawn  feat- 
ures and  clenched  hands,  she  was  vainly  struggling  to  shake 
ofl"  a  hideous  dream. 

"What  folly  to  go  to  sleep  at  noon  with  the  sun  shining 
on  one's  face  !"  said  Zerbino.     "  Women  are  all  fools." 

He  wove  some  branches  together  so  as  to  shade  her  head, 
and  threw  his  jacket  over  the  rude  arbor. 


122 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Just  as  he  had  finished  arranging  the  leaves  he  spied  a 
viper  in  the  grass,  close  by  the  stranger,  that  was  crawling 
towards  her  and  darting  out  its  venomous  tongue. 

"  What !"  said  Zerbino,  "  so  small  and  yet  so  wicked  !" 
And  with  two  strokes  of  his  axe  he  cut  the  serpent  into 
three  pieces,  which  writhed  as  if  still  trying  to  reach  the 
lady.  Zerbino  kicked  them  into  the  pool,  where  they  fell 
hissing  like  a  red-hot  iron  dipped  in  water. 

At  this  moment  the  fairy  awoke  and  sprang  up,  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  joy. 

"Zerbino  !  Zerbino !"  she  shouted. 

"  That  is  my  name  ;  I  know  it ;  you  need  not  scream  so 
loud." 

"  What,  my  friend,"  said  the  fairy,  "  will  you  not  let  me 
thank  you  for  the  service  you  have  done  me?  You  have 
saved  me  from  worse  than  death." 

"  I  have  saved  you  from  nothing  at  all,"  answered  Zerbino, 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  123 

with  his  usual  grace.  "  Another  time  don't  go  to  sleep  on 
the  grass  without  looking  to  see  whether  there  are  any  ser- 
pents about,  that  is  my  advice  to  you.  Now  good-day !  Let 
me  sleep ;  I  have  no  time  to  waste." 

He  stretched  himself  his  full  length  on  the  grass  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

"  Zerbino,"  said  the  fairy, "  have  you  nothing  to  ask  of  me." 

*'  I  ask  you  to  let  me  alone.  When  a  man  wants  nothing, 
he  has  all  he  wants ;  when  he  has  all  he  wants,  he  is  happy. 
Good-day!" 

And  the  churl  began  to  snore. 

"  Poor  boy  !"  said  the  fairy,  "  your  soul  is  asleep ;  but,  say 
what  you  may,  I  will  not  be  ungrateful.  Had  it  not  been 
for  you,  I  should  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  genie,  my 
cruel  foe ;  had  it  not  been  for  you,  I  should  have  been 
turned  into  a  viper  for  a  hundred  years.  I  owe  you  a  hun- 
dred years  of  youth  and  beauty.  How  shall  I  pay  you?  I 
have  it,"  she  cried ;  "  he  who  has  what  he  wants  is  happy, 
you  said  yourself  just  now.  Well,  my  good  Zerbino,  what- 
ever you  may  desire,  whatever  you  wish  for,  shall  be  yours. 
I  hope  you  will  soon  have  cause  to  bless  the  fairy  of  the 
waters." 

She  made  three  circles  in  the  air  with  her  hazel  wand, 
then  stepped  into  the  lake  so  lightly  that  the  waters  were 
not  even  rippled.  At  the  approach  of  their  queen  the  reeds 
bowed  their  heads ;  the  water-lilies  opened  their  freshest 
blossoms ;  the  trees,  the  sunshine,  and  the  winds  themselves 
all  smiled  on  the  fairy,  and  all  seemed  to  share  in  her  happi- 
ness. A  last  time  she  raised  her  wand,  and  the  waters 
opened  instantly  with  a  flash  of  light,  as  if  a  sunbeam  had 
pierced  their  depths,  to  receive  their  young  sovereign.  Then 
shadow  and  silence  fell  over  all,  and  nothing  was  heard  but 
Zerbino  still  snoring. 


"  She  made  three  circles  in  the  air  with  her  hazel  wand." 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  125 

III. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  decline  when  the  wood-cutter 
awoke.  He  returned  tranquilly  to  his  task,  and  with  a  vig- 
orous arm  attacked  the  trunk  of  the  tree  whose  branches  he 
had  lopped  off  in  the  morning.  The  resounding  blows  of 
the  axe  made  no  impression  on  the  hard  wood.  Bathed  in 
perspiration,  Zerbino  vainly  smote  the  gnarled  trunk,  which 
defied  all  his  efforts. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  looking  at  the  jagged  edge  of  his  axe, 
"  what  a  pity  that  some  one  would  not  invent  a  tool  that 
would  cut  wood  like  butter.  I  should  like  to  have  one  of 
that  sort." 

He  drew  back  a  step,  whirled  the  axe  around  his  head, 
and  struck  with  such  force  that  he  fell  flat,  ten  paces 
forward,  with  his  arms  outstretched,  and  his  face  on  the 
ground. 

"  Pshaw  !"  he  exclaimed,  **I  must  see  double ;  I  struck  on 
one  side." 

Zerbino  was  quickly  reassured,  for  at  the  same  instant  the 
tree  fell  so  near  him  that  the  poor  fellow  just  escaped  being 
crushed  by  it. 

"That  was  a  fine  stroke,"  said  he,  "it  helps  my  day's 
work  amazingly.  What  a  clean  cut  I  made ;  it  looks  as 
if  it  were  sawed.  There  is  not  another  wood-cutter  in  the 
town  that  could  have  done  it." 

Upon  this  he  gathered  up  all  the  branches  that  he  had 
hewed  off  that  morning,  unwound  a  rope  from  his  waist, 
seated  himself  astride  the  bundle  of  fagots,  the  better  to  tie 
them  together,  and  fastened  them  with  a  slip-knot. 

"  Now !"  said  he, "  I  must  drag  them  home.  What  a  pity 
that  bundles  of  fagots  had  not  four  legs  like  horses,  so  that  I 
could  gallop  proudly  into  Salerno  like  a  fine  gentleman  that 


126 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


rides  about  doing  nothing.     How  I  should  like  to  see  myself 
prancing  into  town  in  that  fashion  !" 


And,  behold,  instantly  the  bundle  of  fagots  rose  and 
began  to  trot  at  a  measured  pace.  Without  being  at  all 
astonished,   the    honest    Zerbino    let    himself   be    carried 


Zerbino  the  Savage, 


127 


along  by  this  new  kind  of  steed,  and  pitied  the  poor  wretch- 
es on  the  way,  who  went  on  foot  for  want  of  a  bundle  of 
fagots. 


IV. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking  there  was  a  great 
square  in  the  centre  of  Salerno,  where  the  king's  palace  stood. 
This  king,  as  every  one  knows,  was  the  famous  Mouchamiel, 
whose  name  is  immortal  in  history. 

Every  afternoon  the  king's  daughter,  the  Princess  Leila, 
might  have  been  seen  seated  in  her  balcony  in  a  melancholy 
mood.  It  was  in  vain  that  her  slaves  attempted  to  amuse 
her  by  their  songs,  tales,  or  flatteries — Leila  listened  only  to 
her  thoughts.  For  three  years  the  king  her  father  had 
sought  to  marry  her  to  every  baron  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
for  three  years  the  princess  had  refused  all  suitors.  Salerno 
was  her  dowry,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  her  dowry  alone 


1 28  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

that  they  wished  to  marry.  Earnest  and  tender,  Leila  had 
no  ambition;  she  was  not  a  coquette;  she  did  not  laugh 
merely  to  show  her  teeth ;  she  knew  how  to  listen,  and  never 
talked  when  she  had  nothing  to  say — a  malady  so  rare  among 
women  that  it  drove  the  doctors  to  despair. 

Leila  was  even  more  dreamy  than  usual,  when  suddenly 
Zerbino  appeared  on  the  square,  guiding  his  bundle  of  fagots 
with  the  majesty  of  a  plumed  Caesar.  At  the  sight,  the 
princess's  two  waiting-women  were  seized  with  a  mad  fit  of 
laughter,  and,  happening  to  have  some  oranges  in  their 
hands,  they  flung  them  at  the  rider  so  adroitly  that  two  of 
them  struck  him  full  in  the  face. 

"  Laugh,  you  wretches  !"  cried  Zerbino,  shaking  his  fist  at 
them,  "  and  may  you  keep  on  laughing  till  your  teeth  are 
worn  to  the  gums." 

And,  behold,  the  two  women  laughed  convulsively  with- 
out stopping  either  for  the  threats  of  the  wood-cutter  or  the 
commands  of  the  princess,  who  pitied  the  poor  churl. 

"  Good  little  woman  !"  said  2^rbino,  looking  at  Leila, "  so 
sweet  and  so  sad  ;  I  wish  you  nothing  but  good-luck.  May 
you  love  the  first  man  that  makes  you  laugh,  and  marry 
him  into  the  bargain." 

Upon  which  he  pulled  his  forelock,  and  bowed  to  the 
princess  in  the  most  gracious  manner  imaginable. 

As  a  general  rule,  when  one  is  astride  a  bundle  of  fagots 
it  is  better  to  bow  to  no  one,  not  even  a  queen.  Zerbino  for- 
got this,  to  his  sorrow.  In  order  to  salute  the  princess,  he 
let  go  the  rope  that  held  the  bundle  together,  when,  behold, 
the  sticks  fell  apart,  and  the  honest  Zerbino  tumbled  back- 
ward, his  feet  in  the  air,  in  the  most  grotesque  way  imagina- 
ble. He  made  a  bold  somersault,  carrying  with  him  half 
the  leaves,  and,  crowned  like  a  sylvan  god,  rolled  over  once 
more  on  the  ground. 


Zerbino  the  Savage. 


129 


Why  do  we  always  laugh 
when  a  person  falls  at  the 
risk  of  breaking  his  neck? 
I  know  not ;  it  is  a  mystery 
which  philosophy  has  not 
yet  solved.  What  I  do 
know  is  that  every  one 
laughed  on  that  occasion, 
the  Princess  Leila  like  the 
rest.  But  she  instantly 
sprang  up,  gazed  at  Zerbi- 
no with  a  peculiar  expres- 
sion, laid  her  hand  on  her 
heart  and  then  on  her 
head,  and  went  in-doors, 
strangely  agitated. 

Meanwhile  Zerbino  gath- 
ered up  the  scattered  sticks, 
and  returned  home  on  foot, 
like  a  simple  woodman. 
Prosperity  had  not  daz- 
zled him,  neither  was  he 
cast  down  by  ill-luck.  He 
bought  a  good  Italian 
cheese,  as  white  and  hard 
as  marble,  cut  a  large  slice 
from  it,  and  dined  with  a 
hearty  appetite.  The  poor 
simpleton  little  suspected 
what  harm  he  had  wrought, 
and  what  trouble  he  had 
left  behind  him. 


"  The  sticks  fell  apart,  and  the  honest 
Zerbino  tumbled  backward." 


I30 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


V. 

While  these  grave  events  were  taking  place,  four  o'clock 
struck  in  the  tower  of  Salerno.  The  day  was  sultry,  and  si- 
lence reigned  in  the  streets.  Secluded  in  a  lower  chamber, 
far  from  the  heat  and  noise,  King  Mouchamiel  was  dreaming 
of  the  happiness  of  his  people — he  was  asleep. 

All  at  once  he  awoke  with  a  start.  A  pair  of  snowy  arms 
were  wound  around  his  neck,  and  his  face  was  wet  with  scald- 
ing tears.  The  fair  Leila  was  embracing  her  father  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  tenderness. 


"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  said  the  king,  surprised  at  this 
outburst  of  affection.  "What  signify  these  kisses  and  tears  ? 
Child  of  your  mother,  you  are  trying  to  coax  something  out  of 
me." 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear  father,  your  obedient  daughter 
has  come  to  tell  you  that  she  is  ready  to  follow  your  will 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  131 

I  have  found  the  son-in-law  you  have  been  seeking,  and  to 
please  you  will  give  him  my  hand." 

"  Good  !"  said  Mouchamiel ;  "  so  this  is  the  end  of  your 
whims.  Who  is  it  that  you  are  going  to  marry?  Is  it  the 
Prince  of  Cava?  No.  The  Count  of  Capri,  or  the  Marquis 
of  Sorrento  ?     No.     Who  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  father." 

"What!  you  do  not  know!  You  must  have  seen  him, 
however  ?" 

"Yes,  just  now,  in  the  palace  square." 

"  And  did  he  speak  to  you  ?" 

"  No,  father,  what  need  is  there  of  words,  when  hearts  un- 
derstand each  other  ?" 

Mouchamiel  made  a  grimace,  rubbed  his  ear,  and,  peering 
at  his  daughter  through  his  half-closed  eyelids,  asked, 

"  At  least,  he  is  a  prince  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  father ;  but  what  matters  it  ?" 

"  It  matters  a  great  deal,  my  daughter.  You  know  noth- 
ing of  politics.  You  are  free  to  choose  any  son-in-law  that 
suits  me,  and  it  will  be  all  right.  As  a  king  and  a  father, 
I  will  never  interfere  with  your  will  while  it  agrees  with 
mine.  But  otherwise,  I  have  duties  to  fulfil  towards  my 
family  and  subjects ;  and  I  intend  that  my  will  shall  be 
done.  Where  is  this  fine  fellow,  whom  you  do  not  know, 
who  has  never  spoken  to  you,  and  who  adores  you  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  This  is  too  much !"  cried  Mouchamiel.  "  Is  it  to  talk 
such  nonsense  that  you  come  hither  to  rob  me  of  moments 
that  belong  to  my  people  ?  Ho,  there,  chamberlains !  Call 
the  princess's  women,  and  let  them  take  her  back  to  her 
apartments." 

On  hearing  these  words  Leila  raised  her  arms  to  heaven, 
burst  into  tears,  and  fell  at  the  king's  feet,  sobbing.     At  the 


132  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

same  moment  the  two  women  entered,  still  laughing  ready 
to  split  their  sides. 

"  Silence,  wretches,  silence !"  exclaimed  Mouchamiel,  in- 
dignant at  this  lack  of  respect. 

But  the  more  the  king  cried  silence  the  louder  the  women 
laughed,  regardless  of  etiquette. 

"  Guards  !"  said  the  king,  beside  himself,  "  seize  these  in- 
solent women  and  cut  off  their  heads.  I  will  teach  them 
that  there  is  nothing  less  laughable  than  a  king." 

"Sire!"  said  Leila,  clasping  her  hands,  "remember  that 
you  have  rendered  your  reign  illustrious  by  abolishing  the 
penalty  of  death." 

"  You  are  right,  my  daughter.  We  are  a  civilized  people. 
We  will  spare  these  women,  and  content  ourselves  with  treat- 
ing them  in  the  Russian  fashion  with  all  possible  considera- 
tion.    Let  them  be  knouted  till  they  die  a  natural  death." 

"  Pardon,  father,  pardon,"  said  Leila.  "  It  is  your  daugh- 
ter that  entreats  you." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  let  them  stop  laughing,  and  rid  me  of 
their  presence,"  cried  the  good  Mouchamiel.  "  Take  away 
these  idiots.  I  forgive  them.  Shut  them  up  in  a  cell,  till  they 
die  of  silence  and  ennuis 

"  Oh,  father !"  said  poor  Leila. 

"Begone!"  said  the  king;  "marry  them,  and  let  that  end 
the  matter." 

"  Thanks,  sire !  We  shall  laugh  no  longer,"  cried  the 
two  women,  as  they  fell  on  their  knees,  opening  their  mouths 
and  showing  their  toothless  gums.  "  We  are  the  victims  of 
an  infernal  art;  a  wizard  has  bewitched  us." 

"  A  wizard  in  my  state !"  cried  the  king,  who  was  a  free- 
thinker. "  It  is  impossible ;  there  are  none ;  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  them." 

**  Sire,"  said  one  of  the  women,  "  is  it  natural  for  a  bundle 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  133 

of  fagots  to  trot  like  a  horse,  and  prance  under  the  rein  of  a 
wood-cutter?  This  is  what  we  have  just  seen  in  the  square 
before  the  palace." 

"  A  bundle  of  fagots  !"  returned  the  king.  "  That  looks 
like  witchcraft.  Guards,  seize  the  man  and  his  fagots,  and 
let  them  both  be  burned.  After  that  I  hope  I  shall  be  suf- 
fered to  sleep  in  peace." 

"  Burn  my  beloved !"  exclaimed  the  princess,  tossing  her 
arms  like  a  sibyl.  "  Sire,  this  noble  knight  is  my  husband, 
my  love,  my  life  !  Let  a  hair  of  his  head  be  touched  and  I 
shall  die." 

"  My  household  has  gone  distracted,"  said  poor  Moucha- 
miel.  "  What  is  the  use  of  being  king  if  I  cannot  even  take 
an  afternoon  nap.  It  is  all  my  good-nature.  Call  Mistigris  ! 
Since  I  have  a  minister,  the  least  that  he  can  do  is  to  tell 
me  what  to  think,  and  let  me  know  what  to  wish." 

VI. 

Signor  Mistigris  was  announced. 
He  was  a  little  man;  fat,  short,  round, 
and  broad,  who  rolled  rather  than 
walked.  Weasel  eyes,  looking  every 
way  at  once,  a  low  forehead,  hooked 
nose,  fat  cheeks,  and  a  triple  chin : 
such  was  the  minister  that  made  Sa- 
lerno happy,  in  the  name  of  King 
Mouchamiel.  He  entered,  simper- 
ing, puffing,  and  mincing  like  a  man  who  lightly  bears  the 
weight  of  power. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last !"  said  the  prince.  "  How  is  it 
that  strange  things  take  place  in  my  dominions,  and  I,  the 
king,  am  the  last  to  be  informed  of  them  ?" 

"  Everything  is  going  on  as  usual,"  said  Mistigris,  calmly. 


1 34  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  I  have  the  police  reports  here ;  peace  and  happiness  pre- 
vail throughout  the  state,"  and  he  opened  a  large  packet  of 
papers  and  read  as  follows : 

"  Report  of  the  Port  of  Salerno.  All  is  tranquil.  No  more 
frauds  in  the  custom-house  than  usual.  Three  quarrels  be- 
tween sailors,  six  stabs ;  five  admissions  to  the  hospital. 
Nothing  new. 

"City  Report.  Taxes  doubled;  prosperity  and  morality 
continually  on  the  increase.  Two  women  dead  of  hunger ; 
ten  foundlings  ;  three  men  who  have  beaten  their  wives  ;  ten 
wives  who  have  beaten  their  husbands ;  thirty  robberies ; 
two  assassinations;  three  poisonings.     Nothing  new." 

"  Is  that  all  you  know  about  it  ?"  cried  Mouchamiel,  in  an 
angry  tone.  "  Well,  sir,  though  it  is  not  my  business  to  be 
informed  of  the  affairs  of  state,  I  know  more  about  them 
than  you  do.  A  man  has  ridden  through  the  square  on  a 
bundle  of  fagots,  and  bewitched  my  daughter.  Here  she  is, 
wishing  to  marry  him." 

"  Sire,"  said  Mistigris,  "  I  was  not  ignorant  of  this  inci- 
dent. A  minister  knows  everything;  but  why  trouble  your 
majesty  with  such  trifles  ?  The  man  will  be  hung,  and  there 
will  be  an  end  of  the  matter." 

"  And  can  you  tell  me  where  this  wretch  is  to  be  found  ?" 

"  Doubtless,  sire !"  replied  Mistigris ;  "  a  minister  sees  ev- 
erything, hears  everything,  and  is  present  everywhere." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  king,  "if  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  this 
fellow  is  not  here,  you  will  leave  the  ministry  to  those  who 
are  not  content  with  seeing,  but  who  also  act.     Begone  !" 

Mistigris  left  the  room,  still  smiling.  But,  once  in  the  ante- 
room, he  turned  purple  with  excitement,  and  was  forced  to 
cling  to  the  arm  of  the  first  man  he  met.  This  was  the  pre- 
fect of  the  city,  whom  a  happy  chance  threw  in  his  way. 
Mistigris  drew  back  and  seized  the  magistrate  by  the  collar. 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  135 

"Sir!"  said  he,  emphasizing  each  of  his  words,  "if  in  ten 
minutes  you  do  not  bring  me  the  man  who  rides  through 
Salerno  on  a  bundle  of  fagots,  I  will  dismiss  you.  Do  you 
understand  ?     I  will  dismiss  you.     Begone  !" 

Stunned  by  this  threat,  the  prefect  ran  to  the  chief  of 
police. 

"Where  is  the  man  that  rides  a  bundle  of  fagots?"  said  he. 

"  What  man  ?"  asked  the  chief  of  police. 

"  Do  not  argue  with  your  superior.  I  will  not  endure  it. 
By  not  arresting  this  rascal  you  have  utterly  failed  in  your 
duty.  If  this  man  is  not  here  in  five  minutes,  I  shall  dis- 
charge you.     Begone !" 

The  chief  hastened  to  the  police  station,  where  he  found 
the  men  set  to  watch  over  the  public  safety  playing  dice. 

"  You  knaves  !"  he  cried.  "  If  in  three  minutes  you  do 
not  bring  me  the  man  who  rides  a  bundle  of  fagots,  I  will 
bastinado  you  like  galley-slaves.     Begone  without  a  word." 

The  men  went  out  cursing,  while  the  wise  and  able  Misti- 
gris,  confiding  in  the  miracles  of  hierarchy,  tranquilly  returned 
to  the  king's  chamber,  recalling  to  his  lips  that  perpetual 
smile  which  formed  a  part  of  his  profession. 

VII. 

Two  words  whispered  by  the  minister  into  fne  king's  ear 
delighted  Mouchamiel.  The  idea  of  burning  a  wizard  was 
not  displeasing  to  him.  It  was  a  striking  little  event  that 
would  do  honor  to  his  reign,  a  proof  of  wisdom  that  would 
astonish  posterity. 

One  thing  alone  embarrassed  the  king,  namely,  poor  Leila, 
who  was  drowned  in  tears,  and  whom  her  women  vainly  at- 
tempted to  drag  to  her  apartments. 

Mistigris  winked  at  the  king,  then  approaching  the  prin- 
cess, said,  in  his  least  surly  tones  : 


1 36  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Madam,  he  is  coming,  and  he  must  not  find  you  in  tears. 
Adorn  yourself,  on  the  contrary,  be  more  beautiful  than  ever, 
and  let  the  very  sight  of  you  assure  him  of  his  happiness." 

"  I  understand  you,  good  Mistigris,"  exclaimed  Leila. 
"Thanks,  my  dear  father,  thanks,"  she  added,  seizing  her 
father's  hands,  and  covering  them  with  kisses.  "  Bless  you, 
bless  you  a  thousand  times  !" 

She  went  out  intoxicated  with  joy,  with  head  erect,  eyes 
sparkling,  and  so  happy  that  she  stopped  the  first  chamber- 
lain on  her  way  to  inform  him  herself  of  her  marriage. 

"  My  good  chamberlain,"  she  added,  "  he  is  coming.  Do 
the  honors  of  the  palace  yourself,  and  be  sure  that  we  shall 
not  be  ungrateful." 

Left  alone  with  Mistigris,  the  king  looked  at  his  minister 
angrily. 

"  Are  you  mad  ?"  he  cried.  "  What !  without  consulting 
me,  do  you  pledge  my  word  ?  Do  you  think  yourself  the 
master  of  my  empire,  that  you  dispose  of  my  daughter  and 
me  without  my  consent  ?" 

"  Bah  !"  said  Mistrigris,  tranquilly.  "  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  calm  the  princess.  In  politics  one  never  troubles 
himself  about  the  morrow.  '  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof.' " 

"  But  my  word  !"  resumed  the  king.  "  How  can  I  break  it 
without  perjuring  myself?  I  will  have  revenge  on  that  inso- 
lent fellow  who  has  stolen  my  daughter's  heart." 

"  Sire,"  said  Mistigris,  "  a  prince  never  breaks  his  word  \ 
but  there  are  several  ways  of  keeping  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked  Mouchamiel. 

"Your  majesty,"  continued  the  minister,  " has  just  prom- 
ised your  daughter  that  she  shall  be  married ;  we  will  marry 
her,  after  which  we  shall  obey  the  law,  which  decrees, 

"  *  If  a  noble  under  the  rank  of  a  baron  dares  pretend  to 


Zerbino  the  Savage, 


m 


the  love  of  a  princess  of  royal  blood,  he  shall  be  treated  like 
a  noble,  that  is,  decapitated. 

" '  If  the  suitor  is  a  citizen,  he  shall  be  treated  like  a  citizen, 
that  is,  hung. 

"'If  he  is  a  peasant,  he  shall  be  drowned  like  a  dog.' 

"  You  see,  sire, 
that  nothing  is  easier 
than  to  harmonize 
your  paternal  love 
and  your  royal  jus- 
tice. We  have  so 
many  laws  in  Sa- 
lerno that  one  can 
always  be  found  to 
suit  our  case." 

"  Mistigris,"  ex- 
claimed the  king, 
"you  are  a  scoun- 
drel 1" 

"Sire,"  said  the 
fat  man,  "  you  flat- 
ter me  !  I  am  noth- 
ing but  a  politician. 
I  have  been  taught 
that  there  is  one  kind 
of  morality  for  prin- 
ces and  another  for 
the  people,  and  I 
have  profited  by  the 
lesson.  It  is  this 
discernment  which 
makes  the  genius  of 
a  statesman  the  ad- 
miration of  the  astute  and  the  scandal  of  fools." 


138  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  the  king,  "  with  your  long-winded 
phrases,  you  are  as  tiresome  as  an  academical  eulogy.  I  do 
not  ask  you  for  words,  but  for  deeds ;  make  haste  to  punish 
this  man  and  let  us  have  done  with  the  matter." 

As  he  was  speaking,  the  Princess  Leila  entered  the  royal 
chamber.  She  was  so  beautiful,  and  her  eyes  shone  with 
such  joy,  that  the  good  Mouchamiel  sighed,  and  began  to 
wish  that  the  rider  of  the  fagots  might  be  a  prince,  so  that 
he  should  not  be  hung. 

VIII. 

Glory  is  a  fine  thing,  but  it  has  its  disadvantages.  Its  pos- 
sessor must  bid  farewell  to  the  pleasure  of  living  unknown 
and  defying  the  silly  curiosity  of  the  crowd.  The  triumphal 
entry  of  Zerbino  was  not  finished  before  every  child  in  Salerno 
was  acquainted  with  his  person,  home,  and  mode  of  life.  The 
guards  had  little  trouble,  therefore,  in  finding  the  man  they 
sought. 

Zerbino  was  on  his  knees  in  the  courtyard,  busied  in 
sharpening  his  famous  axe.  He  was  just  trying  the  edge 
with  his  thumb-nail  when  a  hand  laid  hold  of  his  collar  and 
set  him  on  his  feet.  Half  a  score  of  kicks  and  a  score  of 
cuffs  propelled  him  into  the  street.  It  was  in  this  way  that 
he  learned  that  a  minister  was  interested  in  his  person,  and 
that  the  king  himself  deigned  to  invite  him  to  the  palace. 

Zerbino  was  a  philosopher,  and  a  philosopher  is  aston- 
ished at  nothing.  He  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
walked  on  quietly,  without  troubling  himself  about  the  hail 
of  blows  that  fell  upon  him.  Nevertheless,  a  philosopher  is 
not  always  a  saint.  A  kick  in  the  thigh  wore  out  the  patience 
of  the  wood-cutter. 

" Gently !"  said  he  ;  "have  a  little  pity  on  a  poor  man  !" 

"  I  believe  that  the  simpleton  is  arguing,"  said  one  of  his 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  1 39 

tormentors.  "Our  gentleman  is  made  of  down;  we  must 
handle  him  with  gloves." 

"  I  wish  you  were  in  my  place,"  said  Zerbino.  "  We  should 
see  whether  you  would  laugh." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  scoundrel,"  said  the  leader  of 
the  band,  as  he  dealt  him  a  blow  that  might  have  felled  an 
ox. 

The  blow  was  badly  aimed,  doubtless,  for  instead  of  strik- 
ing Zerbino,  it  went  straight  into  the  eye  of  one  of  the  guards. 
Furious,  and  half  blinded,  the  wounded  man  threw  himself  on 
the  awkward  fellow  who  had  struck  him,  and  seized  him  by 
the  hair.  A  scuffle  ensued ;  the  bystanders  attempted  to 
separate  them ;  fisticuffs  rained  up  and  down,  right  and 
left,  and  a  general  affray  followed,  enlivened  with  the  shrieks 
of  women,  cries  of  children,  and  barking  of  dogs.  It  became 
necessary,  at  last,  to  call  in  the  patrol,  to  restore  order  by  ar- 
resting assailants,  defenders,  and  spectators. 

Zerbino,  still  unmoved,  was  proceeding  towards  the  castle, 
when  he  was  accosted,  in  the  square,  by  a  file  of  well-made 
fellows  in  embroidered  coats  and  short  breeches.  They 
were  the  valets  of  the  king,  who,  by  the  direction  of  the 
major-domo  and  the  grand  chamberlain  himself,  had  come 
to  meet  the  betrothed  of  the  princess.  Having  been  instructed 
to  be  polite,  each  one  had  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  a  smile 
on  his  lips.  They  bowed  to  Zerbino.  The  wood-cutter,  like 
a  well-bred  man,  returned  the  salute.  They  bowed  anew, 
and  Zerbino  again  returned  it;  a  performance  which  was 
repeated  eight  or  ten  times  in  succession  with  unmoved 
gravity.  Zerbino  was  the  first  to  tire  ;  not  having  been  born 
in  the  palace,  his  back  was  less  supple  than  theirs ;  he  was 
not  accustomed  to  bending  it. 

"  Stop !"  he  cried  ;  "  enough !  three  refusals  are  a  sign  of 
good-luck,  and  three  bows  are  a  sign  of  a  dance.   You  have 


I40 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


;.J-Cv-' 


bowed  long  enough,  now  dance."  And,  lo !  the  valets  began  to 
dance  and  bow,  and  to  bow  and  dance,  and,  preceding  Zerbino 
in  admirable  order,  gave  him  an  entrance  into  the  castle 
worthy  of  a  king. 

IX. 

To  give  himself  a  majestic  air,  Mouchamiel  was  gravely 
staring  at  the  end  of  his  nose,  Leila  was  sighing,  Mistigris 
was  whittling  a  quill,  like  a  diplomatist  in  search  of  an  idea, 
and  the  courtiers,  motionless  and  mute,  seemed  lost  in  con- 
templation. At  last  the  great  door  of  the  saloon  opened : 
the  major-domo  and  valets  entered  with  a  measured  tread, 
dancing  a  saraband  which  greatly  surprised  the  court.  Be- 
hind them  walked  the  wood-cutter,  as  little  moved  by  the 
royal  splendors  as  if  he  had  been  born  in  a  palace.  Never- 
theless, at  the  sight  of  the  king,  he  stopped,  took  off  his  hat, 
and,  clasping  it  in  both  hands  to  his  breast,  bowed  three  times, 
stretching  out  his  right  foot,  after  which  he  put  on  his  hat 
again,  seated  himself  calmly  in  an  arm-chair,  and  crossed 
his  legs. 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  141 

"  My  father !"  cried  the  princess,  throwing  herself  on  the 
king's  neck,  "this  is  the  husband  that  you  have  given  me. 
How  handsome  and  noble  he  is !    Do  you  not  love  him  ?" 

"  Mistigris,"  murmured  Mouchamiel,  half  strangled,  "  ques- 
tion this  man  with  the  greatest  respect.  Think  of  my  daugh- 
ter's repose  and  my  own.  What  luck!  Oh,  how  happy 
fathers  would  be  if  they  had  no  children  !" 

"  Your  majesty  may  be  tranquil,"  said  Mistigris ;  "  humani- 
ty is  my  duty  and  pleasure." 

"  Up,  scoundrel !"  said  he,  harshly,  turning  to  Zerbino, "  an- 
swer quickly  if  you  wish  to  save  your  skin.  Are  you  a  prince 
in  disguise  ?     You  are  silent,  wretch !     You  are  a  wizard  !" 

"I  am  no  more  a  wizard  than  you  are, my  fat  fellow,"  an- 
swered Zerbino,  without  stirring  from  his  chair. 

"You  villain !"  exclaimed  the  minister,  "your  denial  proves 
your  crime,  your  silence  proclaims  you  guilty." 

"  If  I  confessed  should  I  be  innocent?"  asked  Zerbino. 

"  Sire !"  said  Mistigris,  who  mistook  rage  for  eloquence  ; 
"do  justice,  purge  your  state,  purge  the  earth  of  this  mon- 
ster.    Death  is  too  mild  a  punishment  for  such  a  ruffian." 

"  Go  on  !"  said  Zerbino.  "  Bark  !  my  fat  fellow,  bark !  but 
don't  bite." 

"  Sire  !"  said  Mistigris,  puffing  and  panting,  "  your  justice 
and  humanity  are  at  stake  :  bow^  wow,  wow.  Humanity 
commands  you  to  protect  your  subjects  by  delivering  them 
from  this  wizard :  bow,  wow,  wow ;  justice  demands  that  he 
should  be  hung  or  burned  :  bow,  wow,  wow.  You  are  a  fa- 
ther, bow,  wow,  but  you  are  a  king,  bow,  wow,  and  the  king,  bow^ 
wow,  should  take  precedence  of  the  father,  bow,  wow,  wow." 

"  Mistigris,"  said  the  king,  "  you  speak  well,  but  your  stam- 
mer is  unbearable.     Don't  be  so  affected.     Have  done  1" 

"  Sire  !"  screamed  the  minister,  "  death  to  the  villain  ;  the 
halter  or  the  stake.     Bow,  wow,  wow." 


142  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

While  the  king  sighed,  Leila,  suddenly  quitting  her  father, 
placed  herself  by  Zerbino's  side. 

"  Give  your  commands,  sire  !"  said  she.  "  This  is  my  hus- 
band; his  fate  shall  be  mine." 

At  this  shameless  speech,  all  the  court  ladies  covered  their 
faces ;  Mistigris  himself  thought  it  incumbent  upon  him  to 
blush. 

"  Unhappy  girl !"  cried  the  king,  in  a  frenzy  of  rage ;  "  by  dis- 
honoring yourself,  5'ou  have  pronounced  your  doom.  Guards ! 
seize  these  two  creatures ;  let  them  be  married  on  the  spot  j 
then  confiscate  the  first  boat  that  you  find  in  the  port,  thrust 
these  wretches  into  it,  and  abandon  them  to  the  waves." 

"  Oh,  sire  !"  cried  Mistigris,  as  the  guards  were  dragging 
away  the  princess  and  Zerbino,  "  you  are  the  greatest  king  on 
earth.  Your  goodness,  gentleness,  and  indulgence  will  be  the 
example  and  astonishment  of  posterity.  In  what  language  will 
the  Official  Gazette  narrate  it  to-morrow !  As  for  us,  confound- 
ed by  such  magnanimity,  we  can  only  admire  it  in  silence." 

"  My  poor  daughter,"  exclaimed  the  king,  "  what  will  be- 
come of  her  without  her  father  ?  Guards !  seize  Mistigris, 
and  put  him,  too,  in  the  boat.  It  will  be  a  consolation  to  me 
to  know  that  so  able  a  man  is  with  my  dear  Leila.  And 
then,  to  change  ministers  is  always  diverting,  and  in  my  sad 
condition  I  need  something  of  the  sort.  Farewell,  my  good 
Mistigris." 

Mistigris  stood  with  his  mouth  wide  open.  He  had  just  re- 
covered breath  enough  to  curse  princes  and  their  ingrati- 
tude when  he  was  dragged  from  the  palace.  In  spite  of  his 
prayers,  threats,  and  tears  he  was  thrust  into  the  boat,  and  the 
three  friends  soon  found  themselves  alone  on  the  waters. 

As  to  the  good  king  Mouchamiel,  he  wiped  away  a  tear, 
and  shut  himself  up  in  his  chamber  to  finish  the  nap  so 
rudely  interrupted* 


Zerbino  held  the  rudder,  and  murmured  some  plaintive  song." 


144  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

X. 

The  night  was  calm  and  beautiful ;  the  moon  shed  its  silver 
light  on  the  sea,  and  over  its  tremulous  waters ;  the  wind 
from  the  land  drove  on  the  bark,  and  already  Capri  was 
seen  rising  from  the  waves  like  a  basket  of  flowers.  Zerbino 
was  at  the  helm,  murmuring  some  plaintive  woodman's  or 
sailor's  song.  Leila  sat  at  his  feet,  silent,  but  not  sad.  She 
was  listening  to  her  beloved.  The  past  she  had  forgotten, 
for  the  future  she  had  little  care ;  to  stay  by  Zerbino 's  side 
was  life  to  her. 

Mistigris,  less  tender,  was  less  of  a  philosopher.  Restless 
and  angry,  he  bustled  about  like  a  bear  in  its  cage,  and  made 
fine  speeches  to  Zerbino,  to  which  the  wood-cutter  paid  no 
heed,  but  only  nodded,  stolid  as  ever.  Unaccustomed  to 
official  harangues,  the  orations  of  the  minister  put  him  to 
sleep. 

"What  will  become  of  us  ?"  cried  Mistigris.  "Wretched 
wizard,  if  you  have  any  power  show  it,  and  come  to  our  rescue. 
Make  yourself  prince  or  king  somewhere,  and  appoint  me 
your  prime-minister.  I  must  have  something  to  rule.  What 
is  the  use  of  having  power  if  you  do  not  make  your  friends' 
fortune  ?" 

"  I  am  hungry,"  said  Zerbino,  half  opening  his  eyes. 

Leila  sprang  up  instantly,  and  began  to  look  around  her. 

"  My  love,"  said  she,  "  what  would  you  like  ?" 

"  Some  figs  and  raisins,"  said  the  wood-cutter. 

Mistigris  uttered  a  cry ;  a  barrel  of  figs  and  raisins  sprung 
up  between  his  legs  and  threw  him  down. 

"  Oh !"  thought  he,  springing  up,  "  I  know  your  secret,  ac- 
cursed wizard.  If  you  can  have  what  you  wish  for,  my  fort- 
une is  made ;  I  have  not  been  minister  for  nothing,  handsome 
prince,  and  I  will  make  you  wish  for  whatever  I  do." 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  145 

While  Zerbino  was  eating  his  figs  Mistigris  approached 
him,  bowing  and  smiling. 

"  Signer  Zerbino,"  said  he,  "  I  entreat  of  your  excellency 
your  incomparable  friendship.  Perhaps  your  excellency  has 
not  understood  all  the  devotion  that  was  hidden  under  the 
affected  harshness  of  my  words,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  was 
planned  the  more  speedily  to  insure  your  happiness.  It  was 
I  alone  that  hastened  your  happy  marriage." 

"  I  am  hungry,"  said  Zerbino.  "  Give  me  some  figs  and 
raisins." 

"Here  they  are,  my  lord,"  said  Mistigris,  with  all  the 
grace  of  a  courtier.  "  I  hope  his  excellency  will  be  satisfied 
with  my  humble  services,  and  will  often  permit  me  to  dis- 
play my  zeal. 

"Brute !"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "you  do  not  even  lis- 
ten to  me.  I  must  win  Leila's  favor  at  all  hazards.  The 
great  secret  of  politics  is  to  know  how  to  please  the  ladies. 

"By  the  way,  Signor  Zerbino,"  resumed  he,  simpering, 
"you  forget  that  you  were  married  this  evening.  Ought  you 
not  to  make  a  wedding-gift  to  your  royal  bride  ?" 

"A  wedding-gift!  you  tire  me,  my  fat  fellow,"  answered 
Zerbino.  "  Where  do  you  expect  me  to  find  such  a  thing  ? 
Go  and  bring  me  one  from  the  fishes,  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  ?" 

At  that  very  instant,  as  if  hurled  by  an  invisible  hand, 
Mistigris  leaped  overboard  and  disappeared  under  the 
waves. 

Zerbino  set  to  work  anew  to  stone  and  munch  his  raisins, 
while  Leila  never  tired  of  watching  him. 

"There  is  a  porpoise  coming  to  the  surface,"  said  Zer- 
bino. 

It  was  not  a  porpoise,  but  the  happy  messenger,  who  had 
risen  to  the  top  and  was  struggling  with  the  waves.  Zerbino 
10 


146 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


seized  him  by  the  hair  and  pulled  him  into  the  boat. 
Strange  to  say,  Mistigris  held  in  his  teeth  a  carbuncle,  that 
shone  like  a  star  in  the  darkness. 

"  Here  is  the  gift  sent  to  the  charming  Leila  by  the  king 
of  the  fishes,"  stammered  he,  as  soon  as  he  could  breathe. 
"You  see,  Signor  Zerbino,  that  you  have  in  me  the  most 
faithful  and  devoted  of  slaves.  If  ever  you  have  a  little 
ministry  to  intrust  to  me — " 


"I  am  hungry,"  interrupted  Zerbino;  "give  me 'some  figs 
and  raisins." 

"  My  lord,"  resumed  Mistigris,  "  will  you  do  nothing  for 
your  wife,  the  princess  ?  This  boat,  exposed  to  the  changes 
of  the  weather,  is  not  a  fitting  abode  for  one  so  young  and 
lovely." 

"  Hush,  Mistigris,"  said  Leila.  "  I  am  comfortable  here 
I  ask  for  nothing  more." 

"  Do  you  remember,  madam  ?"  said  the  officious  minister, 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  147 

"  that  when  the  Prince  of  Capri  offered  you  his  hand  he  sent 
to  Salerno  a  splendid  ship  of  mahogany  inlaid  all  over  with 
gold  and  ivory,  with  sailors  dressed  in  velvet,  silken  cord- 
ages, and  three  saloons  adorned  with  mirrors.  That  is  what 
a  petty  prince  did  for  you.  Signor  Zerbino,  noble,  power- 
ful, and  good  as  he  is,  surely  will  not  be  left  in  the  back- 
ground." 

"  The  man  is  a  fool,"  said  Zerbino ;  "  he  talks  all  the 
time.  I  should  like  to  have  such  a  vessel  as  that  if  only  to 
stop  your  mouth,  you  chatterbox,  and  make  you  hold  your 
tongue." 

And  lo !  Leila  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  and  delight  that 
made  the  woodsman  start.  He  was  on  board  a  magnificent 
ship,  that  cleft  the  waves  with  the  grace  and  majesty  of  a 
stately  swan.  A  tent  lighted  with  alabaster  lamps  formed 
a  richly  furnished  drawing-room  on  deck.  Leila,  still  seated 
at  her  husband's  feet,  gazed  at  him  with  admiration.  Misti- 
gris  ran  after  the  crew,  and  tried  to  give  orders  to  all  the 
sailors.  But  on  this  strange  vessel  no  one  said  a  word.  Mis- 
tigris  wasted  his  eloquence,  and  could  not  even  find  a  cabin- 
boy  to  rule.  Zerbino  rose  to  look  at  the  wake  of  the  ship ; 
and  Mistigris  ran  after  him,  simpering. 

"  Is  your  lordship  satisfied  with  my  efforts  and  zeal  ?" 
asked  he. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  chatterer,"  said  the  woodsman. 
"  I  forbid  you  to  say  another  word  till  morning.  I  am 
drowsy,  let  me  go  to  sleep." 

Mistigris  stood  with  his  mouth  open,  making  respectful 
gestures;  then  in  despair  he  went  below  to  the  dining-room 
and  ate  his  supper  in  silence.  He  drank  for  four  hours  with- 
out being  able  to  console  himself,  and  ended  by  falling  under 
ihe  table.     In  the  meantime  Zerbino  dreamed  at  his  ease. 

Leila  alone  did  not  close  her  eyes. 


14^  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

One  tires  of  everything,  even  of  happiness,  says  the  prov- 
erb. With  much  greater  reason  might  one  tire  of  being  at 
sea  in  a  ship  where  no  one  said  a  word  and  which  was  drift- 
ing none  knew  whither.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  Mistigris  had 
regained  his  senses  and  speech,  his  sole  idea  was  to  persuade 
Zerbino  to  wish  to  be  on  land.  The  task  was  difficult.  The 
adroit  courtier  was  in  constant  fear  that  some  indiscreet 
wish  might  send  him  again  among  the  fishes ;  he  trembled, 
above  everything,  lest  Zerbino  should  regret  his  axe  and 
forest.  What  a  fate,  to  become  the  minister  of  a  wood- 
cutter ! 

Happily,  Zerbino  awakened  in  excellent  humor.  He  was 
becoming  accustomed  to  the  princess,  and  her  charming  face 
pleased  him,  churl  as  he  was.  Mistigris  wished  to  improve 
the  occasion,  but  women,  alas !  are  so  unreasonable  when 
they  are  in  love!  Leila  declared  to  Zerbino  that  it  would 
be  sweet  to  live  alone  together,  far  from  the  world,  in  some 
tranquil  cottage  in  an  orchard,  on  the  banks  of  a  stream. 
Without  understanding  anything  of  this  poetry,  the  honest 
Zerbino  listened  with  pleasure  to  her  loving  words. 

"  A  cottage  with  cows  and  chickens,"  said  he,  "that  would 
be  fine,  if—" 

Mistigris  felt  himself  lost,  and  struck  a  decisive  blow. 

"Oh,  my  lord  !"  he  cried, "  look  yonder  before  you.  How 
beautiful  that  is !" 

"What?"  asked  the  princess;  "I  see  nothing." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  Zerbino,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  resumed  Mistigris,  with  an  air  of  aston- 
ishment. "  What !  do  you  not  see  that  marble  palace  gleam- 
ing in  the  sun,  and  that  stately  staircase  shaded  with  orange- 
trees,  with  its  hundred  steps  leading  down  to  the  sea-shore  ?" 


Zerbino  the  Savage,  149 

"  A  palace  ?"  said  Leila, "  I  want  none ;  to  live  surrounded 
with  courtiers,  selfish  followers,  and  valets.     Let  us  fly!" 

"Yes,"  said  Zerbino.  "A  cottage  is  better;  we  should 
be  quieter  there." 

"  But  this  palace  is  unlike  any  other,"  exclaimed  Mistigris, 
his  imagination  excited  by  his  fears.  "  In  this  fairy  abode 
there  are  neither  courtiers  nor  valets ;  you  are  served  by  in- 
visible hands,  and  are  at  once  alone  and  surrounded  by  at- 
tendants.   The  furniture  has  hands,  and  the  walls  have  ears." 

"  Have  they  a  tongue  ?"  said  Zerbino. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mistigris,  "they  tell  you  everything  you 
wish  to  know,  but  only  speak  at  your  bidding." 

"  Well,"  said  the  wood-cutter,  "  they  have  more  wit  than 
you.  I  should  like  to  have  such  a  castle  as  that.  Where  is 
this  fine  palace  ?     I  do  not  see  it." 

"  It  is  there  before  you,  my  love,"  exclaimed  the  princess. 

The  vessel  had  made  for  land,  and  anchored  in  a  harbor 
just  deep  enough  for  it  to  come  up  to  the  pier.  The  harbor 
was  half  surrounded  by  a  great  staircase  of  wrought  iron. 
At  the  head  of  this  staircase,  overlooking  the  sea,  on  a  vast 
plateau,  arose  the  most  charming  palace  that  ever  was  seen. 

The  three  friends  gayly  mounted  the  staircase,  Mistigris 
at  the  head,  puffing  and  blowing  at  every  step.  On  reach- 
ing the  gate  of  the  castle  he  attempted  to  ring,  but  there 
was  no  bell ;  he  called,  and  the  gate  itself  answered. 

"  What  do  you  want,  stranger  ?"  it  asked. 

"  To  speak  with  the  master  of  this  palace,"  said  Mistigris, 
a  little  embarrassed  at  talking  for  the  first  time  to  a  gate. 

"The  master  of  this  palace  is  Signor  Zerbino,"  replied 
the  gate.     "  I  will  open  to  him  when  he  appears." 

Zerbino  came  up,  with  the  fair  Leila  on  his  arm ;  the  gate 
opened  respectfully,  and  let  tne  pair  pass,  followed  by  Mis- 
tigris. 


I50 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


Once  on  the  terrace,  Leila  gazed  with  delight  at  the  mag- 
nificent spectacle  of  the 
vast  sea  glittering  in  the 
morning  sun. 

"How  pleasant  it  is 
here,"  said  she,  "  and  how 
delightful  it  would  be  to  sit 
in  this  gallery,  under  the 
shade  of  the  blossoming 
laurels." 

"Well,"  said  Zerbino, 
"  we  can  sit  on  the  ground." 

"  Are  there  no  easy-chairs 
here  ?"  exclaimed  Mistigris. 

"  Here  we  are  !  here  we 
are  !"  cried  the  easy-chairs, 
and  they  hurried  up,  one 
after  another,  as  fast  as 
their  four  feet  could  carry 
them. 

"  This  is  a  nice  place  to 
breakfast  in,"  said  Mistigris. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Zerbino, 
"  but  where  is  the  table  ?" 

"Here  I  am!  here  I 
am  !"  answered  a  contralto 
voice,  and  a  beautiful  ma- 
hogany table,  marching 
with  matronly  gravity, 
strode  forward  and  placed 
itself  before  the  guests. 

"This  is  charming,"  eX' 
claimed  the  princess,  "  but  where  is  the  food .?" 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  151 

"  Here  I  am !  here  I  am  !"  cried  a  number  of  little  shrill 
voices,  and  thirty  platters,  followed  by  their  sisters,  the 
plates,  and  their  cousins,  the  knives  and  forks,  without  for- 
getting their  aunts,  the  salt-cellars,  ranged  themselves  on  the 
table,  which  was  covered  with  game,  fruit,  and  flowers. 

"  Signor  Zerbino,"  said  Mistigris,"  you  see  what  I  have 
done  for  you.     All  this  is  my  work." 

"  You  lie  !"  cried  a  voice. 

Mistigris  turned  around,  but  saw  no  one.  It  was  one  of 
the  pillars  of  the  gallery  that  had  spoken. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  no  one  can  accuse  me  of  impos- 
ture.    I  have  always  spoken  the  truth." 

"  You  lie  !"  said  a  voice. 

"  This  palace  is  detestable,"  thought  Mistigris.  "  If  the 
walls  speak  the  truth,  we  shall  never  have  a  court  here,  and 
I  shall  never  be  minister.     We  must  change  this." 

"  Signor  Zerbino,"  he  resumed,  "  instead  of  living  here 
alone,  would  you  not  rather  be  a  king,  and  have  subjects  to 
pay  you  taxes,  furnish  you  with  soldiers,  and  surround  you 
with  love  and  tenderness  ?'* 

"Be  a  king — what  good  would  that  do  me?"  replied  Zer- 
bino. 

"  My  friend,  do  not  listen  to  him,"  said  Leila.  "  Let  us 
stay  here;  we  are  so  happy,  we  two  alone." 

"  We  three,"  cried  Mistigris  ;  "  I  am  the  happiest  of  men 
here,  and  with  you  I  desire  nothing  more." 

"  You  lie  !"  said  a  voice. 

"  What,  my  lord,  is  there  any  one  here  that  dares  doubt 
my  devotion  ?" 

"  You  lie  !"  returned  the  echo. 

"  My  lord,  do  not  listen  to  this,"  exclaimed  Mistigris.  "  I 
honor  and  love  you  ;  I  swear  it." 

"  You  lie  1"  repeated  the  pitiless  voice. 


152 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Oh !  if  you  do   nothing  but  lie,  begone  to  the  moon," 

said  Zerbino,  "  it  is  the  land 
of  liars." 

It  was  an  imprudent 
speech,  for  instantly  Misti- 
gris  shot  into  the  air,  and 
disappeared  above  the 
clouds.  Whether  he  ever 
descended  again  to  earth 
no  one  knows,  though  some 
chroniclers  say  that  he  has 
since  been  seen  there  un- 
der another  name.  It  is 
certain  that  he  was  never 
more  beheld  in  a  palace 
where  the  very  walls  spoke 
the  truth. 

XII. 
Left  alone,  Zerbino  folded 
his  arms  and  looked  at  the 
sea,  while  Leila  abandoned 
herself  to  the  sweetest 
thoughts.  To  live  in  an 
enchanted  solitude  alone 
with  one  we  love  is  the 
dream  of  our  happiest 
days.  She  took  Zerbino's 
arm  and  together  they  sur- 
veyed their  new  domain. 
On  the  right  and  left,  the 
palace  was  surrounded 
with  beautiful  meadows 
watered    with    sparkling    streams.       Shady    trees,  purple 


Zerbino  the  Savage.  153 

beeches,  larches  with  feathery  cones,  and  fragrant  orange- 
trees  cast  lengthening  shadows  over  the  turf.  Among  the 
foliage  warbled  the  linnet,  breathing  joy  and  repose.  Leila 
laid  her  hand  on  her  heart,  and,  looking  at  Zerbino, 

**  My  love,"  said  she,  "  are  you  happy  here,  and  have  you 
nothing  more  to  wish  for  ?" 

"  I  have  never  wished  for  anything,"  said  Zerbino.  "  To- 
morrow I  shall  take  my  axe  and  set  to  work ;  there  are  fine 
forests  to  cut  down  here,  and  I  can  get  plenty  of  fagots." 

"Oh  !"  said  Leila,  sighing,  "  you  do  not  love  me." 

"  Love  you  !"  exclaimed  Zerbino,  "  what  is  that  ?  I  wish 
you  no  harm,  certainly ;  quite  the  contrary.  Here  is  a  palace 
fallen  from  the  clouds ;  it  is  yours.  Write  to  your  father 
and  tell  him  to  come  hither;  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him. 
If  I  have  hurt  your  feelings  it  was  not  my  fault,  I  did  not 
mean  to.  A  wood-cutter  I  was  born,  and  a  wood-cutter  I 
shall  die.  I  was  brought  up  to  it,  and  I  know  how  to  keep 
my  place.  Don't  cry ;  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  to 
grieve  you." 

"  Oh,  Zerbino  !"  cried  poor  Leila,  "  what  have  I  done  that 
you  should  treat  me  so.?  Am  I  so  ugly  and  ill-tempered 
that  you  cannot  love  me  ?" 

"Love  you!  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  There, 
there,  don't  cry,  there  is  no  use  in  it.  Be  calm,  my  child,  be 
reasonable.  What !  crying  again.  Well !  well !  I  should 
like  to  love  you,  if  it  would  give  you  pleasure.  I  do  love 
you,  Leila,  I  do  love  you  !" 

Poor  Leila,  bathed  in  tears,  raised  her  eyes.  Zerbino  had 
undergone  a  transformation.  In  his  glance  she  saw  the 
tenderness  of  a  husband — the  devotion  of  a  man  who  has 
given  his  heart  and  life  forever  to  another.  At  the  sight, 
Leila's  tears  flowed  more  freely  than  ever,  but  she  smiled 
through  them  at  Zerbino,  who,  for  his  part,  wept  for  the  first 


154 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


time  in  his  life.     Is  it  not  the  greatest  pleasure  of  earth  to 
shed  tears  without  knowing  why? 

All  at  once,  the  fairy  of  the  waters  appeared,  leading  the 
sage  Mouchamiel  by  the  hand.  The  good  king  had  been 
very  unhappy  since  the  loss  of  his  daughter  and  his  minister. 
He  embraced  his  children  tenderly,  gave  them  his  blessing, 
and  bade  them  farewell  the  same  day,  in  order  to  spare  his 
feelings  and  health.  The  fairy  of  the  waters  remained  the 
protectress  of  the  spouses,  who  lived  long  in  their  beautiful 
palace,  happy  in  forgetting  the  world,  and  still  happier  in 
being  forgotten  by  it. 


Did  Zerbino  remain  a  boor,  like  his  father?  Did  his  soul 
ever  open  to  the  light  of  higher  things  ?  When  he  could  un- 
seal his  mind  with  a  word,  was  this  word  never  whispered? 
I  know  not,  and  am  unable  to  conjecture.  But  what  did  it 
matter,  after  all,  since  he  was  happy  ?  He  was  beloved,  and 
that  is  the  greatest  joy  of  life.  It  was  not  necessary  that  he 
should  have  wit ;  whether  princess  or  shepherdess,  every 
woman  in  a  household  has  wit  enough  for  two. 


|-  !^  I   I 


THE  SHEPHERD  PACHA, 

A   TURKISH    TALE. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  at  Bagdad  a  pacha  who 
was  greatly  beloved  by  the  sultan,  and  greatly  dreaded  by 
his  people.  Ali,  for  this  was  the  name  of  our  friend,  was  a 
true  Mussulman,  a  Turk  of  the  old  school.  As  soon  as  the 
dawn  of  day  permitted  him  to  distinguish  a  black  thread 
from  a  white  one,  he  spread  a  carpet  on  the  ground  and,  his 
face  turned  towards  Mecca,  piously  went  through  with  his 
ablutions  and  prayers.  His  devotions  finished,  two  negro 
slaves,  dressed  in  scarlet,  brought  him  his  pipe  and  coffee, 
when  he  settled  himself  on  the  divan,  with  his  legs  crossed, 
and  remained  thus  all  day  long.  To  sip  black,  bitter,  and 
scalding  Mocha,  smoke  Smyrna  tobacco  slowly  through  a 
long  nargile,  sleep,  do  nothing,  and  think  less,  such  was  his 
fashion  of  governing.  Every  month,  it  is  true,  an  order  came 
from  Stamboul  requiring  him  to  send  to  the  imperial  treasury 
a  million  of  piasters,  the  taxes  of  the  pachalic.  The  good 
Ali,  departing  from  his  usual  quiet,  then  summoned  before 


156  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

him  the  richest  merchants  of  Bagdad,  and  politely  asked 
them  for  two  millions  of  piasters.  The  poor  men  raised  their 
hands  to  heaven,  beat  their  breasts,  tore  their  beards,  cast 
up  their  eyes,  and  swore  that  they  had  not  2, para;  they  im- 
plored pity  of  the  pacha  and  mercy  of  the  sultan.  Upon 
which  Ali,  without  ceasing  to  sip  his  coffee,  ordered  them 
to  be  bastinadoed  on  the  soles  of  their  feet  till  they  brought 
this  money  which  they  did  not  possess,  and  which  they  al- 
ways succeeded  in  finding  somewhere.  The  sum  counted 
out,  the  faithful  administrator  sent  one  half  to  the  sultan  and 
put  the  other  into  his  own  coffers,  then  again  returned  to  his 
smoking.  On  these  occasions  he  sometimes  complained, 
despite  his  patience,  of  the  cares  of  greatness  and  weariness 
of  power ;  but  the  next  day  he  thought  no  more  of  them, 
and  levied  the  taxes  the  next  month  with  the  same  calmness 
and  disinterestedness.     He  was  a  model  pacha. 

Next  to  his  pipe,  coffee,  and  money,  the  thing  dearest  to 
Ali  was  his  daughter,  Delight-of-the-Eyes.  He  had  reason 
to  love  her,  for  in  his  daughter  as  in  a  living  mirror  Ali  saw 
himself  reflected,  with  all  his  virtues.  As  indolent  as  she 
was  beautiful,  Delight-of-the-Eyes  could  not  take  a  step 
without  three  women  ready  to  wait  on  her:  a  white  slave 
had  charge  of  her  hair  and  dress ;  a  yellow  slave  held  her 
mirror  or  fanned  her,  and  a  black  slave  amused  her  by  her 
antics,  and  received  her  caresses  or  blows.  The  pacha's 
daughter  drove  out  every  morning  in  a  great  chariot,  drawn 
by  oxen ;  she  spent  three  hours  in  the  bath,  and  employed 
the  rest  of  her  time  in  making  calls,  munching  rose  con- 
serves, drinking  pomegranate  sherbet,  looking  at  dancing- 
girls,  and  ridiculing  her  dear  friends.  After  a  day  so  well 
spent  she  returned  to  the  palace,  kissed  her  father,  and  slept 
a  dreamless  slumber.  Reading,  thinking,  embroidering,  sing- 
ing, and  playing  were  tiresome  tasks,  which  Delight-of-the- 


The  Shepherd  Pacha. 


^11 


Eyes  took  care  to  leave  to  her  servants.  When  a  girl  is 
young,  beautiful,  rich,  and  a  pacha's  daughter,  she  is  born  to 
amuse  herself,  and  what  is  there  more  amusing  and  moie 
praiseworthy  than  doing  nothing.  This  is  the  way  that  the 
Turks  reason ;  but  how  many  Christians  are  Turks  in  this 
respect  t 

There  is  no  happiness  here  below  without  alloy ;  were  it 
not  so,  earth  would  make  us  forget  heaven.  Ali  experienced 
this.     One  tax-day  the  vigilant  pacha,  less  wide-awake  than 


usual,  bastinadoed,  by  mistake,  a  Greek  raya,  a  protege  of 
England.  The  bastinadoed  man  clamored,  as  he  had  a  right 
to  do,  but  the  English  consul,  whose  slumbers  had  been 
broken,  clamored  louder  than  the  raya,  and  England,  who 
never  sleeps,  clamored  still  more  loudly  than  the  consul. 
She  howled  through  the  journals,  vociferated  in  Parliament, 
and  shook  her  fist  at  Constantinople.  The  sultan  grew 
tired  of  so  much  fuss  about  such  a  trifle,  and  being  unable  to 
rid  himself  of  his  faithful  ally,  of  whom  he  stood  in  awe,  he 


158  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

determined  at  least  to  shake  off  the  pacha,  the  innocent 
cause  of  all  this  hubbub.  His  highness's  first  idea  was  to 
strangle  his  late  friend ;  but  he  reflected  that  to  punish  a 
Mussulman  would  give  too  much  exultation  and  joy  to  those 
dogs  of  Christians,  who  were  always  barking.  In  his  inex- 
haustible clemency,  therefore,  the  Commander  of  the  P'aith- 
ful  contented  himself  with  ordering  the  pacha  to  be  set  on 
some  desert  shore  and  left  to  die  of  hunger. 

Happily  for  AH  his  judge  and  successor  was  an  old  pacha 
whose  zeal  was  tempered  by  years,  and  who  knew  by  ex- 
perience that  the  will  of  sultans  is  immutable  only  in  the 
almanac.  He  said  to  himself  that  his  highness  might  some 
day  regret  his  old  friend,  and  would  then  give  him  credit  for 
a  clemency  that  cost  him  nothing.  He  caused  Ali  and  his 
daughter  to  be  brought  to  him  in  secret,  gave  them  slaves' 
dresses  and  a  few  piasters,  and  warned  them  that  if  they 
were  found  in  the  pachalic  the  next  day,  or  if  he  ever  heard 
their  names  mentioned  again,  he  would  strangle  or  decapi- 
tate them,  whichever  they  preferred.  Ali  thanked  him  for 
all  his  goodness,  and  an  hour  later  was  on  his  way  with  a 
caravan  bound  for  Syria.  That  very  evening  the  fall  and 
exile  of  the  pacha  were  proclaimed  in  the  streets  of  Bagdad, 
and  there  was  universal  rejoicing.  On  all  sides  men  ex- 
tolled the  justice  and  vigilance  of  the  sultan,  whose  eyes 
were  always  open  to  the  sufferings  of  his  children.  The 
next  month,  therefore,  when  the  new  pacha,  whose  hand  was 
somewhat  heavy,  demanded  two  and  a  half  million  piasters, 
the  good  people  of  Bagdad  paid  it  without  grumbling,  too 
happy  at  having  escaped  the  claws  of  the  brigand  who  for  so 
many  years  had  pillaged  them  with  impunity. 

To  save  one's  head  is  fortunate,  but  it  is  not  everything ; 
it  is  necessary  to  live,  and  this  is  a  somewhat  difficult  task 
for  one  accustomed  to  count  upon  the  labor  and  money  of 


The  Shepherd  Pacha,  159 

dthers.  On  reaching  Damascus,  Ali  found  himself  destitute 
of  resources.  A  stranger,  without  friends  or  kinsmen,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  starving,  and,  what  was  still  greater  grief 
for  a  father,  he  saw  his  daughter  growing  pale  and  wasting 
away  by  his  side. 

What  was  he  to  do  in  this  extremity?  Ask  alms?  This 
was  unworthy  of  a  personage  who  the  day  before  had  a 
nation  at  his  feet.  Work?  Ali  had  always  lived  like  a 
nobleman;  there  was  nothing  that  he  knew  how  to  do.  His 
only  secret  of  raising  money  had  been  to  bastinado  his  fel- 
lows ;  but  to  exercise  this  respectable  means  of  livelihood 
in  peace  it  was  necessary  to  be  a  pacha,  and  to  have  per- 
mission from  the  sultan.  To  carry  it  on  as  an  amateur,  at 
his  own  risk  and  peril,  was  to  run  the  risk  of  being  hung  as 
a  highway  robber.  Pachas  dislike  competition.  Ali  knew 
something  about  it ;  it  had  been  the  pride  of  his  life  from 
time  to  time  to  strangle  some  petty  thief  who  had  had  the 
folly  to  poach  upon  rich  men's  domains. 

One  day,  when  he  had  eaten  nothing,  and  Delight-of-the- 
Eyes,  worn  out  by  long  fasting,  was  unable  to  rise  from  the 
mat  on  which  she  lay,  Ali,  prowling  around  the  streets  of 
Damascus  like  a  famished  wolf,  saw  some  men  lifting  jars  of 
oil  on  their  heads  and  carrying  them  to  the  warehouse  near 
by.  At  the  door  of  the  warehouse  stood  a  clerk  who  paid 
each  porter  a  para  for  a  jar.  The  sight  of  this  little  piece 
of  copper  made  the  ex-pacha's  heart  leap  within  him.  He 
took  his  place  in  the  line,  and,  mounting  a  narrow  staircase, 
received  a  huge  jar,  which  he  had  great  difficulty  in  raising 
upon  his  back  with  both  hands. 

With  rigid  neck,  elevated  shoulders,  and  wrinkled  brow 
Ali  was  slowly  desending  the  stairs,  when,  at  the  third  step, 
he  felt  his  burden  inclining  forward.  He  threw  himself 
back,  his  feet  slipped,  and  he  rolled  to  the  bottom  of  tb'i 


i6o 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


staircase,  followed  by  the  jar,  which 
broke  in  a  thousand  pieces,  and  del- 
uged him  with  oil.  He  was  rising, 
covered  with  shame,  when  the  clerk 
of  the  warehouse  seized  him  by  the 
collar, 

"  Rascal !"  said  the  latter,  "pay  me 

fifty  piasters  quickly,  to  repair  your 

awkwardness,  and  begone;  when  a 

\^-Tm^^^mp^ifi-^y~~f-\^      "^^^  knows  nothing  of  a  trade,  he 

— Vitf^B^^CI  fiji       should  let  it  alone." 

Hr^Hliljfe^SyBt  "  Fifty  piasters  !"  said  Ali,  smiling 

bitterly.    "  Where  do  you  expect  me 

to  get  them  ?     I  have  not  2ipara" 

"  If  you    do    not   pay  with   your 
purse  you  shall  with  your  skin,"  re- 
turned the  clerk.     At  a  sign  from 
him  Ali  was  seized  by  four  vigorous 
arms  and   flung  on  the  ground,  his 
feet  were  tied  with  ropes,  and,  in  the 
attitude  in  which  he  had  but  too  often  placed  others,  he  re- 
ceived fifty  blows  on  his  soles,  as  conscientiously  applied  as 
if  a  pacha  had  presided  over  the  punishment. 

He  arose,  lame  and  bleeding,  wrapped  his  feet  in  some 
rags,  and  dragged  himself  home,  sighing. 

"  God  is  great !"  murmured  he.  "  It  is  just  that  I  should 
suffer  myself  what  I  have  made  others  suffer.  But  the  mer- 
chants of  Bagdad  whom  I  bastinadoed  were  happier  than  I ; 
they  had  friends  who  paid  for  them,  while  I  am  famishing, 
and  have  nothing  to  reward  me  for  my  beating." 

He  was  mistaken.  A  good  woman,  who,  by  chance  or 
curiosity,  had  seen  his  mishap,  took  pity  on  him.  She  gave 
him  oil  to  dress  his  wounds,  a  little  sack  of  flour,  and  a  few 


03MIK  ^-' 


The  Shepherd  Pacha.  1 6 1 

handfuls  of  pease  on  which  to  live  till  he  was  cured,  and  that 
night,  for  the  first  time  since  his  fall,  Ali  could  sleep  without 
care  for  the  morrow. 

Nothing  sharpens  the  wits  like  sickness  and  suffering.  In 
his  forced  rest  Ali  was  struck  with  a  bright  thought.  "I  was 
a  fool,"  reflected  he,  "to  undertake  to  be  a  porter.  A 
pucha's  strength  does  not  lie  in  his  muscles ;  to  oxen  be- 
longs that  honor.  What  distinguish  men  of  my  condition  are 
skill  and  sleight  of  hand.  I  was  an  unequalled  hunter,  and, 
moreover,  I  know  how  to  flatter  and  lie.  I  ought  to  know 
how,  I  have  been  a  pacha.  I  will  choose  a  business  in 
which  I  can  astonish  the  world  by  these  brilliant  qualities, 
and  rapidly  win  an  honorable  fortune."  Reflecting  thus, 
Ali  turned  barber. 

The  first  few  days  all  went  well.  The  master  of  the  new 
barber  made  him  draw  water,  scrub  the  shop,  shake  the  rugs, 
keep  the  utensils  in  order,  and  serve  the  customers  with 
coffee  and  pipes.  Ali  performed  these  delicate  functions 
admirably.  If  by  chance  the  head  of  some  mountain  peas- 
ant was  intrusted  to  him,  a  wrong  slip  of  the  razor  passed 
unnoticed:  these  good  people  are  tough -skinned,  and  are 
not  ignorant  that  they  were  made  to  be  flayed ;  a  little  more 
or  less  does  not  affect  them  or  rouse  them  from  their  torpor. 

One  morning,  in  the  absence  of  the  head  barber,  a  great 
personage  entered  the  shop,  the  very  sight  of  whom  intimi- 
dated poor  Ali.  It  was  the  pacha's  buffoon,  a  hideous  little 
humpback  with  a  head  like  a  pumpkin,  long  hairy  claws,  a 
restless  eye,  and  teeth  like  an  ape.  While  Ali  covered  his 
face  with  a  fragrant  lather,  the  buffoon,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  amused  himself  with  pinching  the  new  barber,  laugh- 
ing in  his  face,  and  running  out  his  tongue  at  him.  Twice 
he  knocked  from  his  hands  the  basin  of  suds,  which  de- 
lighted him  to  such  a  degree  that  he  flung  him  four  paras. 
11 


l62 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Nevertheless,  the  prudent  AH  preserved  his  gravity.  Ab- 
sorbed in  the  care  of  so  precious  a  face,  he  was  guiding 
his  razor  with  admirable  regularity  and  lightness,  when  all 
at  once  the  humpback  made  such  a  hideous  grimace  and 
uttered  such  a  cry  that  the  barber,  frightened,  suddenly 
drew  back  his  hand,  carrying  away  on  the  end  of  his  razor 
half  of  an  ear,  and  that  not  his  own. 

Buffoons  like  to  laugh,  but  it  is  at  the  expense  of  others. 
There  are  few  men  with  thinner 
skins  than  those  who  chafe  the 
skins  of  their  neighbors.  To 
fling  himself  on  Ali  and  cuff 
and  choke  him,  shouting  murder 
meanwhile,  was  the  humpback's 
first  impulse.  Happily  for  Ali, 
the  cut  was  so  deep  that  the 
wounded  man  was  soon  forced 
to  think  of  his  ear,  from  which  a 
stream  of  blood  was  gushing. 
Ali  seized  the  lucky  moment 
and  fled  through  the  lanes  of. 
Damascus  with  the  swiftness  of 
a  man  who  knows  that  to  be 
caught  is  to  be  hung. 

After  many  windings,  he  hid  himself  in  a  ruined  cellar, 
and  only  ventured  to  return  home  in  the  darkness  and  si- 
lence of  night.  To  stay  at  Damascus  after  such  an  accident 
was  certain  death.  Ali  had  no  difficulty  in  convincing  his 
daughter  that  it  was  necessary  to  depart,  and  that  at  once. 
Their  baggage  was  little  encumbrance  to  them,  and  before 
dawn  they  had  reached  the  mountain.  For  three  days  they 
walked  without  stopping,  with  nothing  to  eat  but  a  few  figs 
filched  from  the  trees  on  the  road,  and  a  little  water  pro- 


The  Shepherd  Pacha.  163 

cured  with  great  difficulty  from  the  bottom  of  the  dried-up 
ravines.  But  every  misfortune  has  its  compensation,  and  it 
must  be  said  that  never,  in  the  times  of  their  splendor,  had 
the  pacha  or  his  daughter  eaten  or  drunk  with  better  ap- 
petite. 

At  their  last  stopping-place  the  fugitives  were  welcomed 
by  an  honest  peasant  who  liberally  practised  the  holy  law  of 
hospitality.  After  supper  he  talked  with  Ali,  and,  finding 
him  without  resources,  offered  to  take  him  for  a  shepherd. 
To  lead  to  the  mountain  a  score  of  goats,  followed  by  half 
a  hundred  sheep,  was  not  a  tiresome  task;  two  good  dogs  did 
the  hardest  part  of  the  work ;  he  ran  no  risk  of  being  beaten 
for  his  awkwardness ;  he  had  all  the  milk  and  cheese  he 
wanted,  and  if  the  farmer  did  not  give  him  ^ipara,  he  at  least 
permitted  Delight-of-the-Eyes  to  take  as  much  wool  as  she 
could  spin,  for  her  father's  clothes  and  her  own.  Ali,  who 
had  no  choice  but  to  die  of  hunger  or  be  hung,  decided, 
without  much  reluctance,  to  lead  the  life  of  the  patriarchs ; 
the  very  next  morning  he  made  his  way  to  the  mountain 
with  his  daughter,  his  dogs,  and  his  flock. 

Once  in  the  fields,  Ali  relapsed  into  his  indolent  ways. 
Stretched  on  his  back  smoking  his  pipe,  he  passed  his  time 
watching  the  flight  of  the  birds  through  the  air.  Poor  De- 
light-of-the-Eyes was  less  patient;  she  thought  of  Bagdad, 
and  did  not  forget  in  her  distaff  the  sweet  leisure  of  olden 
times. 

"My  father!"  she  often  said,  "what  is  the  use  of  life 
when  it  is  nought  but  perpetual  misery  ?  Is  it  not  better  to 
put  an  end  to  it  at  once  than  to  die  by  a  slow  fire  ?" 

"  God  is  great !  my  daughter,"  answered  the  wise  shep- 
herd ;  "  what  he  does  is  well  done.  I  have  repose ;  at  my 
age  this  is  the  chief  of  blessings ;  you  see,  therefore,  that  I 
am  resigned.    Ah !  if  I  had  only  learned  a  trade.    You  have 


She  was  thinking  of  Bagdad,  and  her  distaff  did  not  make  her  forget 
the  sweet  leisure  of  other  days." 


The  Shepherd  Pacha. 


165 


Are 


youth  and  hope,  and  can  look  for  a  change  of  fortune, 
not  these  good  reasons  for  taking  comfort  ?" 

"  I  am  resigned,  my  good  father,"  said  Delight-of-the-Eyes, 
sighing.     The  more  she  hoped,  the  less  was  her  resignation. 


All  had  led  this  happy  life  in  solitude  for  more  than  a 
year  when  one  morning  the  son  of  the  pacha  of  Damascus 
was  hunting  on  the  mountain.  While  chasing  a  wounded 
bird  he  lost  his  way.  Alone,  and  far  from  his  suite,  he 
sought  to  find  his  path  by  following  the  course  of  a  brook, 
when,  on  turning  a  rock,  he  saw  before  him  a  young  girl  sit- 
ting on  the  grass  with  her  feet  in  the  water,  and  braiding  up 


1 66  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

her  long  hair.  At  the  sight  of  this  beautiful  creature  You- 
souf  uttered  a  cry.  Delight-of-the-Eyes  raised  her  head. 
Terrified  at  the  sight  of  a  stranger,  she  fled  to  her  father, 
and  disappeared  from  the  gaze  of  the  astonished  prince. 

"  Who  can  this  be  ?"  thought  Yousouf.  "  The  flower  of 
the  mountain  is  fresher  than  the  rose  of  our  gardens  ;  this 
daughter  of  the  desert  is  more  beautiful  than  our  sultanas. 
Here  is  the  woman  of  whom  I  have  dreamed." 

He  followed  the  steps  of  the  unknown  as  fast  as  the  slip- 
pery stones  would  let  him,  and  at  last  found  Delight-of-the- 
Eyes  busied  in  milking  the  goats,  while  Ali  called  off  the 
dogs,  whose  furious  barking  announced  the  stranger's  ap- 
proach. Yousouf  complained  that  he  had  lost  his  way  and 
was  dying  of  thirst.  Delight-of-the-Eyes  immediately  brought 
him  milk  in  a  great  earthen  jug;  he  drank  slowly,  gazing 
at  the  father  and  daughter  without  speaking,  and  at  last 
decided  to  ask  his  way.  Ali,  followed  by  his  two  dogs,  con- 
ducted the  hunter  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  and  returned 
trembling ;  the  stranger  had  given  him  a  piece  of  gold ;  he 
must  be  an  officer  of  the  sultan,  perhaps  a  pacha.  To  Ali, 
who  judged  from  his  own  recollections,  a  pacha  was  a  man 
who  could  only  do  harm,  and  whose  friendship  was  to  be 
dreaded  quite  as  much  as  his  hatred. 

On  reaching  Damascus,  Yousouf  threw  himself  on  his 
mother's  neck :  he  repeated  to  her  that  she  was  as  beautiful 
as  at  sixteen,  and  as  brilliant  as  the  moon  in  its  full ;  that 
she  was  his  only  friend,  and  that  he  loved  no  one  else  in 
the  world;  saying  which  he  kissed  her  hands  again  and 
again. 

His  mother  smiled.  "My  child,"  said  she,  "you  have  a 
secret  to  confide  to  me ;  speak  quickly.  I  know  that  I  am 
not  as  beautiful  as  you  call  me,  but  I  am  sure  of  this,  that 
you  will  never  have  a  better  friend  than  I.'* 


The  Shepherd  Pacha,  167 

Yousouf  did  not  wait  to  be  urged.  He  was  burning  to 
tell  what  he  had  seen  on  the  mountain ;  he  drew  a  marvel- 
lous portrait  of  the  fair  stranger,  and  declared  that  he  could 
not  live  without  her,  and  would  marry  her  the  next  day. 

"A  little  patience,  my  son!"  said  his  mother.  "Let  us 
learn  who  this  miracle  of  beauty  is ;  after  that  we  will  per- 
suade your  father  to  give  his  consent  to  this  happy  marriage." 

When  the  pacha  learned  of  his  son's  passion,  he  began 
with  expostulations  and  ended  with  a  fit  of  rage.  Were  rich 
and  elegant  girls  so  scarce  in  Damascus  that  his  son  must 
go  to  the  desert  in  search  of  a  shepherdess  ?  Never  would 
he  give  his  consent  to  this  wretched  marriage,  never ! 

Never  is  a  word  which  a  prudent  man  should  beware  of 
speaking  in  his  household  when  his  wife  and  son  are  arrayed 
against  him.  A  week  had  not  passed  before  the  pacha, 
moved  by  the  mother's  tears  and  the  son's  pallor,  retired 
from  the  field,  tired  of  the  contest;  but,  like  a  strong-minded 
man  who  knows  his  own  value,  he  openly  declared  that  he 
was  doing  a  foolish  thing  and  that  he  knew  it. 

"  All  right!"  said  he;  "let  my  son  marry  a  shepherdess,  if 
he  will ;  his  folly  be  on  his  own  head ;  I  wash  my  hands  of 
him.  But,  that  nothing  may  be  lacking  to  this  absurd  mar- 
riage, let  my  fool  come  hither;  he  is  the  fitting  messenger 
to  send  for  this  wretched  goatherd  who  has  bewitched  my 
household." 

An  hour  after  the  humpback,  mounted  on  an  ass,  was  on 
his  way  to  the  mountain,  execrating  the  caprice  of  the  pacha 
and  the  love  of  Yousouf.  What  sense  was  there  in  sending 
as  ambassador  to  a  shepherd,  through  dust  and  sun,  a  deli- 
cate man,  born  to  live  under  the  canopy  of  a  palace  and  to 
delight  lords  and  princes  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  wit?  But, 
alas !  fortune  is  blind ;  it  seats  fools  on  the  pinnacle  of  power, 
and  reduces  geniuses  who  would  not  die  of  hunger  to  the 
condition  of  fools. 


1 68  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

Three  days  of  fatigue  had  not  softened  the  ill-humor  of 
the  humpback,  when  he  saw  Ali  lying  in  the  shade  of  a 
tree,  and  more  occupied  with  his  pipe  than  his  sheep.  Giv- 
ing his  ass  a  kick,  the  fool  advanced  towards  the  shepherd 
with  the  majesty  of  a  vizier. 

"  Fellow  !"  said  he, ''  you  have  bewitched  the  pacha's  son  ; 
he  does  you  the  honor  to  marry  your  daughter.  Scour  up 
this  pearl  of  the  mountain  as  quickly  as  you  can,  I  must 
carry  her  back  to  Damascus.  As  for  yourself,  the  pacha 
sends  you  this  purse,  and  orders  you  to  clear  out  of  the  coun- 
try as  fast  as  possible." 

Ali  let  fall  the  purse  that  was  flung  him,  and,  without  turn- 
ing his  head,  asked  the  humpback  what  he  wanted. 

"•  Stupid  brute  !"  returned  the  latter.  "  Didn't  you  hear 
me?    The  pacha's  son  takes  your  daughter  in  marriage." 

"  What  does  the  pacha's  son  do  for  a  living  ?"  asked  Ali. 

"  What  does  he  do  for  a  living  ?"  cried  the  buffoon,  burst- 
ing into  a  fit  of  laughter,  "  Blind  dotard  that  you  are,  do 
you  imagine  that  so  exalted  a  personage  as  he  is  a  rustic  of 
your  sortf  Don't  you  know  that  the  pacha  shares  the  tithes 
of  the  provinces  with  the  sultan,  and  that  out  of  the  forty 
sheep  that  you  tend  so  badly,  there  are  five  that  belong  to 
him  by  right,  and  thirty-five  that  he  can  take  if  he  chooses." 

"  I  am  not  talking  of  the  pacha,"  tranquilly  returned  AH. 
"  God  protect  his  Excellency !  I  ask  you  what  his  son  does 
for  a  living?     Is  he  an  armorer? 

"  No !  you  fool !" 

"A  blacksmith?" 

"  By  no  means !" 

"  A  carpenter  ?" 

"  No !" 

"  A  charcoal-burner  ?" 

"  No,  no  \  he  is  a  great  gentleman.     Don't  you  know,  you 


The  Shepherd  Pacha,  169 

blind  bat,  that  nobody  but  beggars  work?  The  son  of  the 
pacha  is  a  noble  lord ;  that  is  to  say,  he  has  white  hands  and 
does  nothing." 

"Then  he  shall  not  have  my  daughter,"  said  the  shepherd, 
gravely.  "Housekeeping  is  expensive,  and  I  will  never 
give  my  daughter  to  a  husband  who  cannot  support  his 
wife.  But  perhaps  the  pacha's  son  has  some  lighter  trade. 
Is  not  he  an  embroiderer  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  buffoon,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"A  tailor?" 

"No." 

"  A  potter  ?" 

"  No." 

"  A  basket-maker  ?" 

"No." 

"  Is  he  a  barber,  then  .?" 

"No,"  said  the  humpback,  purple  with  rage;  "stop  this 
foolish  jesting  or  I  will  have  you  beaten  to  a  jelly.  Call 
your  daughter,  I  am  in  haste." 

"  My  daughter  shall  not  go,"  said  the  shepherd. 

He  whistled  to  his  dogs,  who  gathered  round  him,  growling, 
and  showing  fangs  which  appeared  to  give  little  amusement 
to  the  envoy  of  the  pacha.  He  mounted  his  ass,  and,  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  Ali,  who  held  back  his  dogs,  bristling  with 
rage, 

"  Wretch  !"  said  he,  "  you  shall  soon  hear  from  me.  You 
shall  know  what  it  costs  to  have  any  other  will  than  that  of 
the  pacha,  your  master  and  mine." 

The  buffoon  returned  to  Damascus  with  his  maimed  ear 
hanging  lower  than  usual.  Happily  for  him,  the  pacha  took 
the  matter  in  good  part.  It  was  a  little  disappointment  for 
his  wife  and  son,  and  a  triumph  for  himself;  a  double  suc- 
cess which  agreeably  tickled  his  pride. 


1 70  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Upon  my  word  !"  said  he,  "  the  honest  man  is  even 
madder  than  my  son.  But  don't  be  troubled,  Yousouf,  a 
pacha  never  breaks  his  word.  I  will  send  four  horsemen 
to  the  mountain  to  bring  me  the  girl ;  as  for  the  father,  have 
no  anxiety  about  him ;  I  have  a  decisive  argument  in  store 
for  the  fellow." 

Saying  this,  he  made  an  airy  gesture  with  his  hand,  as 
if  cutting  down  something  that  was  in  his  way. 

At  a  sign  from  his  mother  Yousouf  arose,  and  entreated 
his  father  to  leave  to  him  the  care  of  carrying  out  this  little 
adventure.  Doubtless  the  means  proposed  was  irresistible, 
but  Delight-of-the-Eyes  might  be  weak  enough  to  love  the 
old  shepherd ;  she  would  weep  for  him  \  and  the  pacha  would 
not  wish  to  sadden  the  honeymoon.  Yousouf  hoped,  with 
a  little  persuasion,  easily  to  overcome  a  resistance  which 
seemed  to  him  unreasonable. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  pacha.  "You  think  yourself  wiser 
than  your  father ;  it  is  the  way  with  sons.  Go,  and  do  as 
you  please ;  but  I  warn  you  that  from  this  day  forth  I  wash 
my  hands  of  your  affairs.  If  that  old  fool  of  a  shepherd 
refuses  you,  that  ends  the  matter.  I  would  give  a  thousand 
piasters  to  see  you  return  as  discomfited  as  the  humpback." 

Yousouf  smiled ;  he  was  sure  of  success.  How  could 
Delight-of-the-Eyes  help  loving  him?  He  adored  her. 
Moreover,  at  twenty,  who  doubts  himself  or  his  good  fort- 
une. Doubt  is  for  those  whom  life  has  deceived,  and  not 
for  those  whom  she  intoxicates  with  her  first  illusions. 

AH  received  Yousouf  with  all  the  respect  due  to  the  son 
of  a  pacha.  He  thanked  him  politely  for  his  honorable  pro- 
posal, but  continued  inexorable.  No  trade  —  no  marriage. 
It  was  for  him  to  choose.  The  young  man  had  thought 
that  Delight-of-the-Eyes  would  come  to  his  aid  ;  but  Delight- 
of-the-Eyes  was  invisible ;  and  there  was  a  good  reason  for 


The  Shepherd  Pacha,  171 

her  not  disobeying  her  father ;  the  prudent  Ali  had  not  said 
a  word  to  her  about  the  marriage.  Since  the  visit  of  the 
buffoon  he  had  carefully  kept  her  shut  up  in  the  house. 

The  pacha's  son  returned  from  the  mountain  utterly  cast 
down.  What  should  he  do?  Return  to  Damascus  to  be 
the  butt  of  his  father's  railleries?  Never  would  Yousouf 
resign  himself  to  this.  Lose  Delight-of-the-Eyes  ?  Rather 
death.  Make  this  old  shepherd  change  his  mind?  You- 
souf could  not  hope  for  it,  and  he  almost  came  to  the  point 
of  regretting  that  he  had  ruined  his  cause  by  too  great 
kindness  of  heart. 

Amid  these  sad  reflections  he  suddenly  perceived  that 
his  horse,  left  to  himself,  had  strayed  away.  Yousouf  found 
him  on  the  edge  of  an  olive  wood.  In  the  distance  he  spied 
a  village.  The  bluish  smoke  rose  above  the  roofs,  and  he 
heard  the  barking  of  dogs,  the  song  of  the  workmen,  and  the 
noise  of  the  forge  and  hammer.  An  idea  struck  Yousouf. 
What  hindered  him  from  learning  a  trade  ?  Was  it  so  very 
difficult?  Was  not  Delight-of-the-Eyes  worth  any  sacrifice? 
The  young  man  tied  his  horse  to  an  olive-tree,  upon  which 
he  hung  his  weapons,  embroidered  jacket,  and  turban.  At 
the  first  house  he  reached  he  complained  of  having  been 
robbed  by  the  Bedouins,  bought  a  rough  suit  of  clothes,  and, 
thus  disguised,  went  from  door  to  door  to  offer  himself  as 
an  apprentice.  Yousouf's  appearance  was  so  prepossessing 
that  every  one  welcomed  him  cordially,  but  he  was  appalled 
at  the  conditions  proposed  to  him.  The  blacksmith  asked 
two  years  to  teach  him,  the  potter  one  year,  and  the  mason 
six  months;  it  was  a  century.  The  pacha's  son  would  not 
resign  himself  to  this  long  servitude.  All  at  once  a  shrill 
voice  called  out :  "  Ho !  my  son,  if  you  are  in  haste  and 
are  not  ambitious,  come  with  me ;  in  a  week  I  will  teach 
you  how  to  earn  your  living." 


172 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Yousouf  raised  his  head.  A  few  steps  from  him  a  little 
fat  man  with  round  belly  and  rosy  face  was  seated  on  a 
bench  with  his  legs  crossed ;  he  was  a  basket-maker.  He 
was  surrounded  with  straw  and  reeds  of  all  colors.  With  a 
skilful  hand  he  plaited  the  braids,  which  he  then  sewed  to- 
gether into  baskets,  mats,  and  hats  of  varied  shades  and  pat- 
terns.    It  was  a  charming  sight. 

"You  are  my  master,"  said  Yousouf,  taking  the  hand  of 
the  basket-maker ;  *'  and  if  you  can  teach  me  your  trade  in 


.^J2.V<P_        ^ 


~    £l^}ljPj^ 


two  days,  I  will  pay  you  well  for  your  pains.  Here  is  my 
advance  fee." 

With  these  words  he  flung  two  pieces  of  gold  to  the 
amazed  workman. 

An  apprentice  who  scatters  gold  about  him  is  not  seen 
every  day.  The  basket-maker  did  not  doubt  that  he  had  to 
deal  with  a  prince  in  disguise.  He  did  wonders,  and,  as  his 
pupil  lacked  neither  intelligence  nor  good-will,  before  night 
he  had  taught  him  all  the  secrets  of  his  trade. 

"  My  son,"  said  he,  "your  education  is  finished  ;  you  shall 
judge  before  night  whether  your  master  has  earned  bis 


The  Shepherd  Pacha.  1 73 

money.  The  sun  is  setting;  it  is  the  time  when  people 
pass  my  door  on  their  way  home  from  work.  Take  this 
mat,  which  you  have  braided  and  sewed  with  your  own 
hands,  and  offer  it  for  sale.  Either  I  am  greatly  mistaken 
or  you  will  sell  it  for  four  paras.  For  a  beginner  that  is 
doing  well." 

The  basket-maker  was  not  mistaken.  The  first  purchaser 
offered  three  paras.  He  was  asked  five,  and  after  more 
than  an  hour's  haggling  he  finally  decided  to  give  four.  He 
drew  out  his  long  purse,  looked  several  times  at  the  mat, 
criticised  it,  and  finally  made  up  his  mind  to  count  out  his 
four  copper  coins,  one  by  one.  But,  instead  of  taking  the 
money,  Yousouf  flung  a  piece  of  gold  to  the  purchaser,  and 
ten  to  the  basket-maker ;  then,  seizing  his  masterpiece,  he 
rushed  from  the  village  like  a  madman.  On  reaching  his 
horse  he  spread  the  mat  on  the  ground,  enveloped  his  head 
in  his  mantle,  and  slept  the  most  restless  but,  nevertheless, 
the  sweetest  sleep  that  he  had  ever  tasted  in  his  life. 

At  daybreak,  when  Ali  came  to  the  pasture  with  his  sheep, 
he  was  greatly  astonished  to  see  Yousouf  installed  before 
him  under  the  old  carob-tree.  As  soon  as  he  perceived  the 
shepherd,  the  young  man  arose,  and,  taking  the  mat  on  which 
he  had  been  lying, 

"  My  father !"  said  he,  "  you  required  me  to  learn  a  trade. 
I  have  done  so.     Here  is  my  work,  examine  it  for  yourself." 

"  It  is  a  fine  bit  of  work,"  said  Ali ;  "  if  it  is  not  very 
smoothly  braided,  it  is  honestly  sewed.  What  can  you  earn 
by  making  one  mat  a  day  like  this  ?" 

"  YoMx paras ^'  said  Yousouf,  "and  with  a  little  practice,  I 
could  make  two  at  least  in  a  day." 

"  Be  modest,"  returned  Ali ;  "  modesty  becomes  youthful 
talent.  Yo\xx  paras  a  day  is  not  much,  but  (our  paras  to-day 
and  four  to-morrow  make  eight  paras^  and  four  paras  the 


1 74  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

day  after  will  make  twelve.  In  fine,  it  is  a  trade  at  which  a 
man  can  earn  a  living,  and  if  I  had  had  the  wit  to  learn  it 
when  I  was  pacha,  I  should  not  have  had  to  turn  shepherd 
to-day." 

These  words  filled  Yousouf  with  astonishment.  Ali  told 
him  his  whole  story.  It  was  risking  his  head,  but  a  little 
pride  is  excusable  in  a  father  on  giving  his  daughter  in  mar- 
riage. Ali  was  not  sorry  to  show  his  son-in-law  that  Delight- 
of-the-Eyes  was  not  unworthy  to  be" the  wife  of  a  pacha's  son. 

The  sheep  that  day  went  home  earlier  than  usual.  You- 
souf was  anxious  to  thank  the  honest  farmer  who  had  given 
shelter  to  Ali  and  his  daughter.  He  bestowed  on  him  a 
purse  of  gold  to  reward  him  for  his  charity.  None  is  so 
liberal  as  a  happy  man.  Delight-of-the-Eyes,  on  being  in- 
troduced to  the  mountain  hunter,  and  informed  of  Yousouf 's 
intentions,  declared  that  it  was  a  daughter's  first  duty  to 
obey  her  father.  In  such  cases,  it  is  said,  daughters  are  al- 
ways obedient  in  Turkey. 

The  same  day,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  they  set  out 
for  Damascus.  The  horses  were  fleet,  and  their  hearts  were 
light;  they  went  like  the  wind,  and,  before  the  close  of  the 
second  day,  they  had  reached  their  destination.  Yousouf 
presented  his  bride  to  his  mother.  It  is  needless  to  say  how 
great  was  her  joy.  After  the  first  caresses,  she  could  not 
resist  the  pleasure  of  showing  her  husband  that  she  had  been 
wiser  than  he,  and  took  pleasure  in  revealing  to  him  the  birth 
of  the  fair  Delight-of-the-Eyes. 

"  By  Allah !"  cried  the  pacha,  stroking  his  long  beard  to 
keep  himself  in  countenance,  and  hide  his  confusion,  "do 
you  imagine,  madam,  that  you  can  surprise  a  statesman  like 
me?  should  I  ever  have  consented  to  this  union  if  I  had 
not  known  the  secret  that  astonishes  you  ?  Understand  that 
a  pacha  knows  everything."     And  he  instantly  retired  to  his 


The  Shepherd  Pacha. 


175 


Study  to  write  to  the  sultan,  that  he  might  decide  Ali's  fate. 
He  was  not  ready  to  displease  his  highness  for  the  bright 
eyes  of  an  outlawed  family.  Youth  loves  romance  in  life, 
but  the  pacha  was  a  serious  man,  who  was  anxious  to  live 
and  die  a  pacha. 

All  sultans  love  stories,  if  we  are  to  believe  "The  Thou- 
sand and  One  Nights."  Ali's  protector  had  not  degener- 
ated from  his  ancestors.  He  sent  a  ship  expressly  to  Syria 
to  bring  the  ex-pacha  of  Bagdad  to  Constantinople.  Ali, 
clad  in  rags,  with  crook  in  hand,  was  led  to  the  seraglio, 
where,  before  a  numerous  audience,  he  had  the  honor  of 
amusing  his  majesty  during  a  whole  afternoon. 

When  Ali  had  finished  his  story,  the  sultan  ordered  him  to 
be  clothed  in  a  robe  of  honor.  Of  a  pacha  his  highness  had 
made  a  shepherd  ;  he  wished  now  to  astonish  the  world  by  a 
new  miracle  of  his  omnipotence,  and  of  a  shepherd  to  make 
a  pacha. 

The  whole  court  applauded  this  brilliant  mark  of  favor. 
Ali  threw  himself  at  the  sultan's  feet,  and  declined  an  honor 


1 76  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

which  had  lost  all  attractions  for  him.  He  did  not  wish,  he 
said,  to  run  the  risk  of  displeasing  the  master  of  the  world  a 
second  time,  and  begged  to  grow  old  in  obscurity,  blessing 
the  generous  hand  that  had  rescued  him  from  the  abyss  into 
which  he  had  justly  fallen. 

All's  boldness  appalled  the .  spectators,  but  the  sultan 
smiled. 

"God  is  great!"  he  cried,  "and  has  some  new  surprise  in 
store  for  us  each  day.  During  the  twenty  years  that  I  have 
reigned,  this  is  the  first  time  that  one  of  my  subjects  has 
asked  to  be  nothing.  For  the  rarity  of  the  thing,  AH,  I  grant 
your  prayer.  All  that  I  ask  is  that  you  shall  accept  a  gift 
of  a  thousand  purses.  No  one  must  leave  my  presence 
empty-handed." 

On  his  return  to  Damascus  Ali  bought  a  beautiful  garden, 
filled  with  oranges,  lemons,  apricots,  plums,  and  grapes.  To 
dig,  hoe,  graft,  prune,  and  water  these  was  his  sole  delight. 
He  went  to  bed  every  night  with  a  tired  body  and  tran- 
quil soul,  and  arose  every  morning  refreshed  and  light- 
hearted. 

Delight-of-the-Eyes  had  three  sons,  all  more  beautiful  than 
their  mother.  Old  Ali  undertook  to  bring  them  up.  He 
taught  all  of  them  gardening,  and  made  each  one  learn  a 
different  trade.  To  engrave  on  their  hearts  the  truth  that  he 
had  learned  only  in  exile,  he  inscribed  on  the  walls  of  his 
house  and  garden  the  finest  passages  of  the  Koran,  above 
which  he  wrote  these  wise  sayings,  which  the  Prophet  himself 
would  not  have  disowned  : 

*'  Labor  is  the  only  treasure  that  never  fails  us." 

"  Use  thy  hands  for  work  and  thou  wilt  never  stretch  them  for  alms." 
"  When  thou  knowest  what  it  costs  to  earn  a  para,  thou  wilt  respect 
others'  property  and  labor." 

"  Work  brings  health,  wisdom,  and  joy." 

"  Labor  and  dulness  never  dwell  under  the  same  roof." 


The  Shepherd  Pacha. 


177 


It  was  amid  such  wise  teachings  that  the  sons  of  Delight- 
of-the-Eyes  grew  up.  All  three  were  pachas.  Whether  they 
profited  by  their  grandfather's  counsels  I  know  not.  I  like 
to  think  so,  although  the  annals  of  the  Turks  are  silent  con- 
cerning it.  The  first  lessons  of  infancy  are  not  forgotten. 
It  is  to  education  that  we  owe  three  fourths  of  our  vices  and 
half  our  virtues.  Good  people,  remember  what  you  owe  to 
your  fathers,  and  say  to  yourselves  that  wicked  men  and 
pachas,  are,  for  the  most  part,  only  children  badly  trained. 
12      . 


BRIAM  THE  FOOL, 


AN    ICELANDIC   TALE. 


In  the  good  country  of  Iceland,  there  once  lived  a  king 
and  queen  who  ruled  a  faithful  and  obedient  people.  The 
queen  was  good  and  gentle,  and  little  attention  was  paid  to 
her ;  the  king  was  grasping  and  cruel,  and  all  who  feared 
him,  therefore,  vied  with  each  other  in  praising  his  virtue  and 
kindness.  Thanks  to  his  avarice,  the  king  had  more  castles, 
farms,  herds,  goods,  and  jewels  than  he  could  count,  but  the 
more  he  had,  the  more  he  wanted.  Woe  to  the  man,  rich  or 
poor,  who  fell  into  his  power  ! 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  park  about  the  royal  castle  stood 
a  little  hut,  where  dwelt  an  old  peasant  and  his  wife.  Provi- 
dence had  bestowed  on  them  seven  sons,  and  these  were  all 
their  riches.     To  feed  this  large  family  the  good  people 


Briam  the  Fool,  1 79 

had  nothing  but  a  cow,  called  Bukolla.  She  was  a  splendid 
animal,  black-and-white,  with  short  horns,  and  large,  soft, 
and  gentle  eyes.  Her  beauty,  moreover,  was  her  very  least 
merit ;  she  was  milked  thrice  a  day,  and  never  gave^  less  than 
five  gallons  at  a  time.  She  was  so  devoted  to  her  mas- 
ters that  she  came  home  of  her  own  accord  at  milking-time, 
dragging  her  full  udders,  and  lowing  from  afar  for  them  to 
come  to  her  relief;  in  short,  she  was  the  delight  of  the 
household. 

One  day,  as  the  king  was  hunting,  he  chanced  to  pass 
through  the  pasture  where  the  cows  of  the  castle  were  feed- 
ing.    Unluckily,  Bukolla  had  strayed  among  the  herd. 

"  What  a  fine  cow  I  have  there  !"  exclaimed  he. 

"  Sire,"  answered  the  herdsman,  "  it  is  not  yours ;  it  is 
Bukolla,  the  cow  of  the  old  peasant  that  lives  in  the  hovel 
yonder." 

"  I  must  have  her,"  said  the  king,  and  through  the  whole 
hunt  he  talked  of  nothing  but  Bukolla.  At  night,  on  his  re- 
turn, he  called  the  captain  of  his  guard,  who  was  as  wicked 
as  himself,  and  said,  "  Go  find  that  peasant,  and  bring  me 
directly  the  cow  that  has  struck  my  fancy." 

The  queen  begged  him  to  forbear.  "  These  poor  people," 
said  she,  "  have  nothing  in  the  world  but  their  cow ;  to  take 
her  away  is  to  make  them  die  of  starvation." 

"  I  must  have  her,"  returned  the  king,  "  by  purchase,  bar- 
ter, or  force,  no  matter  which.  If,  in  an  hour,  Bukolla  is  not 
in  my  stables,  woe  to  the  knave  that  has  failed  in  his  duty !" 
And  he  frowned  so  fiercely  that  the  queen  dared  not  open 
her  lips,  and  the  captain  of  the  guard  set  off  post-haste  with 
a  band  of  soldiers. 

The  peasant  was  milking  the  cow  in  front  of  the  door, 
with  all  the  children  gathered  round,  caressing  her.  On 
hearing  the  king's  message  the  good  man  shook  his  head, 


i8o  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

and  declared  that  he  would  not  sell  Bukolla  at  any  price. 
"  She  is  mine,"  said  he,  "  she  is  my  joy  and  treasure,  and  I 
love  her  better  than  all  the  king's  gold." 

It  was  growing  late,  and  the  captain  of  the  guard  feared 
his  master's  wrath.  He  seized  Bukolla  by  the  horns  to  drag 
her  away.  The  peasant  sprang  to  his  feet,  to  offer  resistance, 
when  a  blow  from  an  axe  laid  him  dead  on  the  ground.  At 
the  sight,  all  the  children  burst  into  tears  except  Briam,  the 
eldest,  who  stood,  pale  and  speechless,  as  if  transfixed  to  the 
spot. 

The  captain  of  the  guard  knew  that  blood  for  blood  is 
the  law  in  Iceland,  and  that  sooner  or  later  the  sons  would 
avenge  their  father.  If  the  tree  was  not  to  grow  again,  it 
must  be  plucked  up,  root  and  branch.  With  a  frenzied 
grasp,  the^ruffian  seized  one  of  the  crying  children.  "  Where 
is  your  pain  ?"  he  asked.  "  Here,"  said  the  child,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  heart,  whereupon  the  wretch  instantly  plunged 
a  dagger  into  his  breast.  Six  times  he  put  the  same  ques- 
tion and  received  the  same  answer,  and  six  times  he  flung 
the  corpse  of  the  son  upon  that  of  the  father.  All  this  time, 
Briam,  with  his  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open,  was  running 
about,  chasing  the  flies  as  they  buzzed  in  the  air. 

"  Come  here,  you  rascal !  where  is  your  pain .?"  cried  the 
executioner. 

For  his  sole  answer,  Briam  put  his  thumb  and  forefinger 
to  his  nose  in  token  of  contempt,  and  ran  off  as  fast  as  his 
legs  could  carry  him,  singing  and  dancing.  The  captain  of 
the  guard  was  about  to  pursue  the  insolent  fellow,  when  he 
was  stopped  by  his  companions. 

"  Fie  !"  said  they ;  "  kill  the  cub  after  the  wolf,  but  do  not 
kill  a  fool !     What  harm  can  he  do  you  ?" 

That  evening  the  king  had  the  pleasure  of  stroking  Bu- 
kolla, and   the  thought  never  crossed  his  mind   that  she 


Briam  the  Fool. 


i8i 


had  cost  him  too  dear.  But  in  the  ruined  hovel  an  old 
woman,  in  tears,  entreated  justice  of  God.  The  whim  of  a 
prince  had  robbed  her  in  an  hour  of  her  husband  ind  six 
children.  Of  all  whom  she  loved,  of  all  who  were  her  sup- 
port, nought  was  left  her  but  a  wretched  idiot. 


II. 

Ere  long,  nothing  was  talked  of  for  twenty  leagues  round 
but   Briam    and  his    antics. 

One  day,  he  wanted  to  drive         -^      ^  ~-  K 

a  nail  into  the  axle  of  the 
sun;  another,  he  tossed  up 
his  cap  to  the  man  in  the 
moon.  The  king,  who  was 
ambitious,  thought  that  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  to 
have  a  fool  at  his  court,  in 
humble  imitation  of  the  great 
princes  of  the  Continent. 
Briam  was  sent  for,  accord- 
ingly, and  dressed  in  a  motley 
suit,  with  one  leg  red  and 
the  other  blue,  one  sleeve 
green  and  the  other  yellow ; 
and  an  orange  body.  In 
this  parrot -like  costume,  he 
was  set  to  amuse  the  court- 
iers. Sometimes  caressed 
and  oftener  beaten,  the  poor 
fool  suffered  everything  with- 
out complaint.  He  passed 
whole  hours  in  talking  with 
the  birds    or   watching    the 


1 82  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

burial  of  an  ant.  If  he  opened  his  lips,  it  was  to  make  some 
mad  speech,  which  greatly  delighted  those  who  were  not 
its  butt. 

One  day,  when  dinner  was  about  to  be  served,  the  captain 
of  the  guard  entered  the  castle  kitchen.  Briam,  armed  with 
a  chopping-knife,  was  cutting  up  carrot  leaves  in  the  style 
of  parsley.  The  sight  of  the  knife  terrified  the  murderer, 
and  aroused  his  suspicions.  "  Briam,  where  is  your  mother  ?" 
asked  he. 

"  There  she  is,  hanging  yonder,"  answered  the  idiot,  point- 
ing with  his  finger  at  the  huge  pot,  where  the  royal  dinner 
was  stewing. 

"  Stupid  lout,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  exclaimed  the  guards- 
man, opening  his  eyes. 

"That  is  my  mother;  it  is  what  feeds  me,"  returned 
Briam.  And,  springing  to  the  fireplace,  he  grasped  the 
sooty  pot  in  his  arms,  and  ran  off  with  it  to  the  forest. 
They  chased  him,  but  it  was  labor  lost ;  when  they  caught 
him,  the  dinner  was  spilled  and  everything  spoiled.  That 
night  the  king  was  forced  to  dine  on  a  crust  of  bread,  and 
his  only  consolation  was  to  have  Briam  soundly  whipped  by 
the  scullions  of  the  castle. 

Briam  limped  to  his  mother's  hovel,  and  told  her  what  had 
happened.  "My  son,  my  son,"  said  the  poor  woman,  "that 
is  not  what  you  should  have  said." 

"  What  should  I  have  said,  mother .?" 

"  My  son,  you  should  have  said,  '  This  is  the  pot  that  is 
filled  every  day  by  the  king's  generosity.' " 

"Well,  mother,  I  will  say  that  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  the  court  was  assembled.  The  king  was 
talking  with  his  high-steward — a  great  lord,  who  loved  good 
cheer,  fat,  sleek,  and  jolly ;  with  a  large,  bald  head,  a  thick 
neck,  a  huge  belly,  over  which  he  could  not  cross  his  arms, 


Briam  the  Fool. 


83 


and  a  pair  of  little  legs  which  with  difficulty  supported  this 
vast  structure.  As  the  steward  was  talking  with  the  king, 
Briam  came  up,  and  struck  him  a  smart  blow  in  the"  belly, 
saying :  "  This  is  what  is  filled  every  day  by  the  king's  gen- 
erosity." 

It  is  needless  to  say 
that  a  beating  followed. 
The  king  was  furious, 
and  the  court  like- 
wise ;  but  it  was  whis- 
pered that  evening 
throughout  the  castle 
that  fools,  without 
knowing  it,  sometimes 
speak  the  truth. 

Briam  limped  to  his 
mother's  hut,  and  told 
her  what  had  hap- 
pened. "  My  son,  my 
son,"  said  the  poor 
woman,  "that  is  not 
what  you  should  have 
said." 

"  What  should  I  have  said,  mother  ?" 

"My  son,  you  should  have  said,  'This  is  the  best  and 
most  faithful  of  courtiers.'  " 

"  Well,  mother,  I  will  say  that  to-morrow." 

The  next  day  the  king  held  a  grand  levee,  and  while  the 
ministers,  officers,  chamberlains,  fine  gentlemen,  and  fair 
ladies  were  disputing  the  smiles  of  the  monarch,  he  amused 
himself  by  teasing  a  large  spaniel  that  was  trying  to  snatch 
a  cake  from  his  hands. 

Briam  seated  himself  at  the  king's  feet,  and,  seizing  the 


1 84  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

dog  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  causing  it  to  howl  piteously, 
cried,  "This  is  the  best  and  most  faithful  of  courtiers." 

The  king  smiled  at  this  jest,  upon  which  the  courtiers  all 
burst  out  laughing,  but  no  sooner  had  he  left  the  room  than 
a  shower  of  blows  and  kicks  rained  upon  poor  Briam,  who 
had  great  difficulty  in  escaping  the  storm.  He  limped  to  his 
mother's  hut  and  told  her  what  had  happened. 

"  My  son,  my  son,"  said  the  poor  woman,  "  that  is  not 
what  you  should  have  said." 

"  What  should  I  have  said,  mother  ?" 

"You  should  have  said,  'This  creature  would  eat  up 
everything  if  one  would  let  her.'  " 

"  Well,  mother,  I  will  say  that  to-morrow.'* 

The  next  day  was  a  holiday,  and  the  queen  appeared  in 
her  most  gorgeous  array.  She  was  covered  with  velvet, 
laces,  and  jewels ;  her  necklace  alone  was  worth  the  tax  of 
twenty  villages.  All  admired  her  splendor.  Just  then 
Briam  came  up,  crying,  "  This  creature  would  eat  up  every- 
thing if  one  would  let  her." 

It  would  have  been  all  over  with  the  insolent  wretch  if 
the  queen  herself  had  not  interceded  for  him. 

"  Poor  fool,"  said  she,  "  begone ;  no  one  shall  hurt  you. 
If  you  knew  how  these  jewels  weigh  me  down,  you  would  not 
reproach  me  for  wearing  them." 

Briam  hastened  to  his  mother's  hut,  and  told  her  what 
had  happened.  "  My  son,  my  son,"  said  the  poor  woman, 
"  that  is  not  what  you  should  have  said." 

"  What  should  I  have  said,  mother  ?" 

"  My  son,  you  should  have  said,  *  This  is  the  king's  love 
and  pride.' " 

"  Well,  mother,  I  will  say  that  to-morrow." 

The  next  day,  the  king  was  going  to  the  chase.  His  fa- 
vorite mare  was  brought  him ;  he  mounted,  and  was  care- 


Briam  the  Fool.  185 

lessly  bidding  the  queen  good-bye,  when  Briam  struck  the 
horse  on  the  shoulder,  saying, "  This  is  the  king's  love  and 
pride." 

The  king  looked  angrily  at  Briam,  upon  which  the  poor 
fool  ran  off  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him,  already  be- 
ginning to  scent  the  whip  in  the  air.  He  entered  his 
mother's  hut,  out  of  breath,  and  told  her  what  had  happened. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  poor  woman,"  do  not  go  back  to  the 
castle ;  they  will  kill  you." 

"  Patience,  mother,  none  can  say  who  will  slay  and  who 
will  be  slain." 

"Alas!"  said  his  mother,  weeping;  "how  happy  your 
father  is  to  be  in  his  grave,  where  he  cannot  see  your  shame 
and  mine." 

"  Patience,  mother,  no  two  days  are  alike." 

III. 

Almost  three  months  had  passed  since  Briam's  father 
slept  in  the  grave  with  his  children,  when  the  king  gave  a 
great  feast  to  the  chief  officers  of  his  court.  The  captain 
of  the  guard  sat  at  his  right  and  the  fat  high-steward  at  his 
left.  The  table  was  covered  with  lights,  fruits  and  flowers, 
and  the  guests  quaffed  the  choicest  wine  from  golden  cups. 
As  the  drink  went  round  their  blood  grew  heated,  words  ran 
high,  and  more  than  one  quarrel  was  threatening.  Briam, 
madder  than  ever,  poured  the  wine,  and  took  care  not  to 
leave  a  glass  empty,  but  while  he  held  the  golden  flagon  with 
one  hand,  with  the  other  he  pinned  the  clothing  of  the  guests 
together,  two  by  two,  so  that  no  one  could  rise  without  drag- 
ging his  neighbor  after  him. 

He  had  made  the  round  of  the  board  three  times,  when 
the  king  cried,  heated  with  wine  : 

"  Jump  upon  the  table,  fool,  and  give  us  a  song !" 


86 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Briam  leaped  up  lightly  among  the  fruits  and  flowers,  and 
began  chanting  in  a  mournful  strain : 


"Each  has  its  turn, 
Wind  and  rain, 
Night  and  day, 
Death  and  life, 
Each  has  its  turn." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  dismal  dirge?"  exclaimed 
the  king.     "  Fool,  make  me  laugh  or  I  will  make  you  cry." 


B riant  the  FooL  187 

Briam  looked  at  the  king  fiercely,  and  chanted,  in  a  men- 
acing voice ; 

"Each  has  its  turn, 
Good  luck  and  ill, 
Outrage  and  vengeance, 
Deaf  are  the  fates, 
Each  has  its  turn." 

"  What !  villain,  it  looks  as  if  you  were  threatening  me," 
cried  the  king;  "you  shall  be  punished  as  you  deserve." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  so  suddenly  that  he  dragged  after  him 
the  captain  of  the  guard.  The  latter,  taken  by  surprise,  fell 
forward,  and,  to  steady  himself,  caught  hold  of  the  king's 
elbow  and  neck. 

"  Wretch  !"  cried  the  prince, "  do  you  dare  to  lay  hands  on 
your  master?"  And,  seizing  his  dagger,  he  was  about  to 
stab  the  officer  when  the  latter  grasped  the  king's  arm  with 
one  hand,  and,  with  the  other,  plunged  his  dirk  into  his 
throat.  The  blood  gushed  forth  in  torrents,  and  the  prince 
fell,  dragging  his  murderer  with  him  in  the  death-struggle. 

The  captain  of  the  guard  rose  quickly,  amid  shrieks  and 
confusion,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  exclaimed,  "  Gentlemen, 
the  tyrant  is  dead.  Hurrah  for  liberty.  I  will  be  king  and 
will  marry  the  queen.  If  any  one  objects,  let  him  speak,  I 
am  ready  for  him.'* 

"Long  live  the  king!"  cried  all  the  courtiers;  and  there 
were  even  a  few  who  took  advantage  of  the  occasion  to  draw 
a  petition  from  their  pockets.  The  joy  was  universal,  and 
almost  delirious.  Suddenly,  with  flashing  eyes  and  uplifted 
axe,  Briam  stood  before  the  usurper. 

**  Dog,  and  son  of  a  dog,"  he  cried,  "  when  you  slew  my 
kindred,  you  thought  neither  of  God  nor  man.  Your  time 
has  come  1" 

The  captain  of  the  guard  attempted  to  draw  his  sword, 


i88 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


but  Briam  dealt  his  right  arm  such  a  blow  that  it  fell  like  a 
broken  bough. 

"  And  now,"  cried  Briam,  "  if  you  have  a  son,  let  him 
avenge  you,  as  Briam  this  day  avenges  his  father."  With 
these  words,  he  cleft  his  skull  asunder. 

"Long  live  Briam!"  cried  the  courtiers;  "long  live  our 
liberator !"  At  that  instant  the  queen  entered,  terror-strick- 
en, and  threw  herself  at  the  fool's  feet,  calling  him  her 
avenger.  Briam  raised  her  from  the  ground,  then,  seating 
himself  by  her  side  and  brandishing  his  axe,  he  called  on 
all  the  courtiers  to  swear  fidelity  to  their  lawful  sovereign. 

"Long  live  the  queen!"  cried  every  one.  The  joy  was 
universal  and  almost  delirious. 

The  queen  wished  to  keep  Briam  at  the  court;  but  he 
begged  to  return  to  his  hut,  and  asked  no  other  reward  than 
the  poor  cow,  the  innocent  cause  of  so  much  suffering.  On 
approaching  the  door  of  the  cottage,  the  cow  began  to  low 
for  those  who  could  no  longer  hear  her.  The  poor  woman 
came  out,  in  tears. 


"Mother,"    said    Briam,  "here    is    Bukolla;    you    are 
avenged !" 


"  At  that  instant  the  queen  entered,  terror-stricken,  and  threw  her- 
self at  the  fool's  feet." 


190 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


Here  ends  the  story.  What  became  of  Briam  none  can 
tell ;  but  the  whole  country  still  points  out  the  ruins  of  the 
hut  where  he  and  his  brothers  dwelt,  and  mothers  say  to 


their  children,  "  There  lived  the  lad  who  avenged  his  father 
and  comforted  his  mother."  And  the  children  answer, 
"  We  will  follow  his  example." 


THE  LITTLE  GRAY  MAN. 

AN    ICELANDIC    TALE. 

In  olden  times — I  speak  of  three  or  four  hundred  years 
ago — there  lived  at  Skalholt,  in  Iceland,  an  old  peasant, 
who  was  no  more  richly  endowed  with  wit  than  he  was  with 
money.  One  day,  when  the  honest  man  was  at  church,  he 
heard  a  fine  sermon  on  charity.  "  Give  alms,  brethren,  give 
alms !"  said  the  curate,  "  and  the  Lord  will  restore  it  to  you 
a  hundred-fold."  These  words,  which  were  repeated  again 
and  again,  fixed  themselves  in  the  peasant's  mind,  and  mud- 
dled what  little  brains  he  had.  Scarcely  had  he  returned 
home  when  he  began  to  cut  down  the  trees  in  his  garden, 
dig  up  the  ground,  and  fetch  wood  and  stones,  as  if  he  were 
about  to  build  a  palace. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  my  poor  man  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"  Don't  call  me  '  poor  man '  any  longer,"  said  the  peas- 
ant, gravely ;  "  we  are  rich,  my  dear  wife,  or,  at  least,  we 
soon  shall  be.  In  a  fortnight  I  am  going  to  give  away  my 
cow." 


192  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Our  only  means  of  livelihood,"  cried  the  wife ;  "  we  shall 
die  of  starvation." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  ignoramus,"  said  the  peasant ; 
"it  is  clearly  to  be  seen  that  you  did  not  listen  to  the  cu- 
rate's sermon.  By  giving  away  our  cow  we  shall  receive  a 
hundred  more  as  a  reward  ;  the  curate  said  so,  and  it  is  gos- 
pel truth  j  I  shall  put  fifty  of  them  in  the  stable  that  I  am 
going  to  build,  and  with  the  money  that  I  get  for  the  other 
fifty  I  shall  buy  meadow-land  enough  to  keep  our  herd  both 
in  winter  and  summer.  We  shall  be  richer  than  the  king." 
And,  without  troubling  himself  about  either  the  prayers  or 
reproaches  of  his  wife,  the  simpleton  went  on  building  his 
stable,  to  his  neighbors'  great  astonishment. 

The  work  finished,  he  tied  a  rope  around  the  cow's  neck, 
and  led  her  straight  to  the  curate's  house.  He  found  him 
talking  with  two  strangers,  at  whom  he  scarcely  glanced,  so 
eager  was  he  to  make  his  gift  and  to  receive  the  promised 
reward.  The  curate  was  greatly  astonished  at  this  new 
form  of  charity.  He  made  a  long  speech  to  his  foolish 
sheep,  to  prove  to  him  that  our  Lord  had  spoken  of  spiritual 
rewards  alone ;  but  it  was  sheer  waste  of  time  :  the  peasant 
only  answered,  "You  said  so,  Mr.  Curate;  you  said  so." 
Tired,  at  last,  of  reasoning  with  such  a  dolt,  the  pastor  fell 
into  a  fit  of  holy  wrath,  and  shut  his  door  in  the  face  of  the 
peasant,  who  stood  in  the  road  thunder-struck,  repeating, 
"  You  said  so,  Mr.  Curate  ;  you  said  so." 

Nothing  was  left  for  him  but  to  return  home ;  and  this 
was  not  an  easy  matter.  It  was  early  spring;  the  ice  was 
melting,  and  the  gusts  of  wind  blew  the  snow  in  all  direc- 
tions. He  slipped  at  every  step,  while  the  cow  lowed,  and 
would  not  go  on.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  had  lost  his 
way,  and  was  in  danger  of  losing  his  life.  He  stopped, 
perplexed,  execrating  his  ill-fortune,  and  not  knowing  what 


The  Little  Gray  Man,  19  j 

to  do  with  the  animal  that  he  was  dragging  along.  As  he 
was  sadly  reflecting,  a  man  came  up,  carrying  a  huge  sack, 
and  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  abroad  in  such  wretched 
weather. 

The  peasant  told  the  story  of  his  troubles.  "  My  good 
man,"  said  the  stranger,  "if  you  take  my  advice,  you  will 
make  a  trade  with  me.  I  live  close  by  here ;  give  me  your 
cow,  which  you  can  never  get  home,  and  take  this  sack, 
which  is  no  more  than  you  can  carry,  and  which  is  full  of 
good  things ;  it  holds  nothing  but  meat  and  bone." 

The  bargain  struck,  the  stranger  led  away  the  cow,  while 
the  peasant  threw  over  his  shoulder  the  sack,  which  he  found 
frightfully  heavy.  Dreading  his  wife's  reproaches  and  ridi- 
cule, the  instant  he  entered  the  house  he  hastened  to  tell  of 
the  danger  he  had  run,  and  what  a  good  trade  he  had  made 
in  exchanging  a  dying  cow  for  a  sack:  full  of  victuals.  On 
hearing  this  fine  story,  his  wife  began  to  snarl.  He  begged 
her  to  keep  her  ill-humor  to  herself,  and  to  hang  on  her 
biggest  pot.  "  You  will  see  what  I  have  brought,"  said  he. 
"  Wait  a  little,  and  you  will  thank  me."  He  opened  the  sack, 
when  out  stepped  a  little  man,  all  in  gray,  like  a  mouse. 

"  How  are  you,  good  people  ?"  said  he,  with  the  air  of  a 
prince.  "  I  hope  that,  instead  of  cooking  me,  you  will  give 
me  something  to  eat ;  this  little  journey  has  made  me  very 
hungry." 

The  peasant  dropped  upon  his  bench  as  if  he  were  thun- 
derstruck. 

"  There  !"  said  his  wife ;  "  I  was  sure  it  would  turn  out  so. 
Here  is  a  new  piece  of  folly.  But  what  else  can  one  expect 
of  a  husband  ?  Here  you  have  lost  the  cow,  that  was  our 
only  means  of  livelihood,  and,  now  that  we  have  nothing, 
you  bring  us  another  mouth  to  feed.  I  wish  you  had  stayed 
in  the  snow  with  your  sack  and  its  treasure." 
13 


194 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


The  good  woman  would  have  gone  on  talking  till  dooms- 
day, if  the  little  gray  man  had  not  thrice  remonstrated  with 
her  that  hard  words  would  not  fill  the  pot,  and  that  the  wis- 
est course  was  to  go  and  hunt  for  game.  He  went  out  at 
once,  in  spite  of  the  darkness,  wind,  and  snow,  and  soon 
came  back,  bringing  a  fat  sheep. 

"There!"  said  he;  "kill  this  creature,  and  do  not  let  us 
die  of  starvation." 

The  old  peasant  and  his  wife  looked  askance  at  the  little 
man  and  his  booty.  This  boon,  that  fell,  as  it  were,  from 
the  clouds,  savored  strongly  of  theft ;  but,  when  hunger  cries 
aloud,  farewell  to  scruples.  Lawful  prey  or  not,  the  sheep 
was  hungrily  eaten. 

From  that  day  plenty  reigned  in  the  peasant's  household. 
One  sheep  followed  another,  and  the  honest  man,  more 


The  Little  Gray  Man,  195 

credulous  than  ever,  marvelled  within  himself  whether  he 
had  not  gained  by  the  exchange,  when,  instead  of  the  hun- 
dred cows  that  he  expected,  heaven  had  sent  him  so  skilful 
a  purveyor  as  the  little  gray  man. 

There  are  two  sides  to  everything.  While  the  sheep  mul- 
tiplied in  the  old  man's  house  they  perceptibly  diminished 
in  the  royal  flock  which  was  at  pasture  in  the  neighborhood. 
The  head  shepherd,  in  great  distress,  informed  the  king  that 
for  some  time,  in  spite  of  his  redoubled  vigilance,  the  finest 
wethers  in  the  flock  had  disappeared  one  after  another. 
Some  adroit  thief  had  certainly  taken  up  his  abode  in  the 
neighborhood.  It  did  not  take  long  to  discover  that  there 
was  a  stranger  in  the  peasant's  cabin,  whom  no  one  knew, 
and  who  had  come  from  none  knew  whither.  The  king  or- 
dered the  stranger  to  be  instantly  brought  before  him.  The 
little  gray  man  set  out  without  a  frown,  but  the  peasant  and 
his  wife  began  to  feel  a  little  remorse  on  thinking  that  re- 
ceivers and  thieves  were  hung  on  the  same  gallows. 

When  the  little  gray  man  appeared  at  court,  the  king 
asked  him  whether,  by  chance,  he  had  not  heard  that  five 
fat  sheep  had  been  stolen  from  the  royal  flock. 

"Yes,  your  majesty !"  answered  the  little  man  ;  "it  was  I 
that  took  them." 

"  By  what  right  ?"  said  the  prince. 

"Your  majesty,  I  took  them  because  an  old  man  and  his 
wife  were  suftering  with  hunger,  while  you,  oh,  king,  were 
rolling  in  wealth,  and  could  not  use  one  tenth  of  your  in- 
come. It  seemed  to  me  just  that  these  honest  people  should 
live  on  your  superfluity,  rather  than  die  of  want,  while  you 
knew  not  what  to  do  with  your  abundance." 

The  king  stood  stupefied  at  such  audacity ;  then,  looking 
the  little  man  in  a  manner  that  boded  no  good,  "  As  far  as  I 
can  see,"  said  he,  "  your  chief  talent  is  stealing." 


196  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

The  little  man  bowed  with  modest  pride. 

"  Very  well !"  said  the  king ;  "  you  deserve  to  be  hung ; 
but  I  forgive  you,  on  condition  that,  by  this  time  to-morrow, 
you  shall  have  stolen  from  my  shepherds  my  black  bull, 
which  they  tell  me  they  guard  so  carefully." 

"Your  majesty,  you  ask  an  impossibility.  How  do  you 
expect  me  to  deceive  such  vigilance  ?" 

"  If  you  do  not  do  it,"  returned  the  king,  "  you  will  be 
hung,"  and  with  a  gesture  he  dismissed  the  thief,  while  all 
around  echoed,  "Hung!"  "hung!"  "hung!" 

The  little  gray  man  returned  to  the  hut,  where  he  was 
tenderly  received  by  the  peasant  and  his  wife.  He  only 
told  them,  however,  that  he  needed  a  rope,  and  that  he 
should  leave  the  next  morning  at  daybreak.  They  gave 
him  the  cow's  old  halter,  upon  which  he  went  to  bed  and 
slept  soundly. 

At  the  first  dawn  of  day  the  little  gray  man  set  out  with 
his  rope.  He  went  into  the  forest  along  the  road  by  which 
the  king's  shepherds  were  to  pass,  and,  choosing  a  great 
oak,  well  in  sight,  hung  himself  by  the  neck  to  its  largest 
bough.  He  took  good  care,  however,  not  to  make  a  slip- 
noose. 

Two  shepherds  soon  came  by,  leading  the  black  bull. 

"  Look,"  said  one,  "  the  knave  has  already  got  his  reward. 
It  is  certain,  at  least,  that  he  did  not  steal  his  halter.  Good- 
bye, my  fine  fellow !  There  is  no  danger  of  your  taking  the 
king's  bull." 

No  sooner  were  the  shepherds  out  of  sight  than  the  little 
gray  man  sprang  down  from  the  tree,  ran  up  a  cross-road, 
and  hung  himself  anew  to  a  great  oak  near  the  road.  The 
shepherds  were  astonished  to  see  another  man  hung. 

"  Who  is  that  ?"  cried  one.  "  Do  I  see  double  ?  Here  is 
the  man  that  was  hung  over  yonder." 


Why,  here  is  the  man  that  was  hung  over  yonder !' ' 


198  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  How  stupid  you  are !"  said  his  companion  ;  "  how  can  a 
man  be  hung  in  two  places  at  once  ?  This  is  another  rob- 
ber, that  is  all." 

"I  tell  you  that  it  is  the  same  one,"  returned  the 
first  shepherd ;  "  I  know  him  by  his  coat  and  his  grim- 
ace." 

"And  I  will  bet  that  it  is  some  one  else,"  said  the  sec- 
ond shepherd,  who  was  strong-minded. 

The  bet  was  taken,  and  the  two  shepherds  tied  the  bull  to 
a  tree,  and  ran  back  to  the  first  oak.  But  no  sooner  were 
they  out  of  sight  than  the  little  gray  man  leaped  from  his 
gibbet,  and  stealthily  led  the  bull  to  the  peasant's  cottage. 
He  was  joyfully  welcomed,  and  the  animal  was  put  into  the 
stable  till  it  could  be  sold. 

The  two  shepherds  returned  at  night  to  the  castle  with 
hanging  heads  and  dejected  air.  The  king  saw  at  once 
that  a  trick  had  been  played  them.  He  sent  for  the  little 
gray  man,  who  presented  himself  with  the  serenity  of  a 
hero. 

"  You  have  stolen  my  bull,"  said  the  king. 

"Your  majesty,"  answered  the  little  man,  "I  only  did  it 
in  obedience  to  your  commands." 

"Very  well!"  said  the  king;  "here  are  ten  gold  crowns 
as  its  ransom ;  but  if,  in  two  days,  you  do  not  steal  the 
clothes  off  my  bed  while  I  am  asleep,  I  will  hang  you." 

"Your  majesty,  do  not  ask  such  a  thing.  You  are  too 
well  guarded  for  a  poor  man  like  me  to  be  able  even  to  ap- 
proach the  castk." 

"If  you  do  not  do  it,"  said  the  king,  "I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  hanging  you." 

When  evening  came,  the  little  gray  man,  who  had  returned 
to  the  hut,  took  a  long  rope  and  a  basket.  This  basket 
he  lined  with  moss,  and  put  in  it  a  cat  that  had  just  kit- 


The  Little  Gray  Man. 


199 


tened,  with  all  her  litter.  Then,  groping  his  way  through 
the  thick  darkness,  he  slipped  into  the  castle,  and  mount- 
ed to  the  roof  without  being  seen.  To  enter  the  garret, 
saw  through  a  plank  of  the  floor,  and  let  himself  down 
through  this  opening  into  the  king's  chamber,  was  the  work 
of  a  few  moments.  Once  there,  he  carefully  turned  down 
the  bedclothes,  and  laid  the  cat  and  kittens  in  the  royal 

bed.  He  then  clam- 
bered up  the  bedpost, 
and  seated  himself  on 
the  canopy,  and  in 
this  elevated  position 
waited  to  see  what 
would  happen. 

The    palace    clock 
struck  eleven,  and  the 


200  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

king  and  queen  entered  their  apartment.  Having  un- 
dressed, both  knelt  down  and  said  their  prayers ;  after 
which  the  king  put  out  the  light,  and  the  queen  got  into 
bed.  All  at  once  she  shrieked,  and  sprang  to  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

"  Are  you  mad  ?"  said  the  king.  "  Do  you  want  to  alarm 
the  whole  castle  ?" 

"  My  dear,"  answered  she,  "  come  away  from  that  bed,  I 
beg  of  you ;  I  felt  a  burning  breath  there,  and  my  feet 
touched  something  hairy." 

"  Why  not  say  at  once  that  the  devil  is  in  the  bed  ?"  said 
the  king,  laughing  contemptuously.  "  All  women  have  the 
heart  of  a  hare  and  the  head  of  a  linnet." 

Upon  which,  like  a  true  hero,  he  bravely  lay  down  under 
the  coverlet,  and  instantly  sprang  out,  dragging  after  him 
the  cat,  which  had  fastened  its  claws  into  his  thigh.  At 
the  king's  shrieks  the  sentinel  rushed  to  the  door,  and  knocked 
thrice  with  his  halberd,  as  a  signal  that  aid  was  at  hand. 

"  Silence  !"  said  the  prince,  ashamed  of  his  weakness,  and 
not  wishing  to  be  caught  in  a  fright. 

He  struck  a  match,  lighted  the  lamp,  and  saw  in  the  bed 
the  cat,  tenderly  licking  her  kittens. 

"This  is  too  much !"  he  cried.  "This  impudent  creature 
has  no  respect  for  our  crown,  but  takes  our  royal  couch  in 
which  to  deposit  her  litter.  Wait,  puss,  and  I  will  give  you 
what  you  deserve." 

"  She  will  bite  you,"  said  the  queen  ;  "she  may  be  mad." 

"Don't  be  afraid,  my  dear!"  returned  the  good  prince, 
and,  raising  the  corners  of  the  under-sheet,  he  wrapped  the 
whole  litter  in  it ;  after  which  he  rolled  it  in  the  coverlet 
and  upper-sheet,  made  a  huge  bundle  of  the  whole,  and  threw 
it  out  of  the  window. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  the  queen,  "  let  us  go  to  your  room, 


The  Little  Gray  Man, 


20I 


and  sleep  in  peace,  since  we 
are  avenged." 

The  king  slept,  and  pleasant 
dreams  lulled  his  slumbers; 
but  while  he  reposed,  a  man 
climbed  on  the  roof,  and  fas- 
tened a  rope  thereto,  by  which 
he  let  himself  down  to  the 
ground.  Once  there,  he  groped 
for  the  bundle,  took  it  on  his 
back,  leaped  over  the  wall,  and 
ran  off  through  the  snow.  The 
sentinels  declared  the  next 
morning  that  a  phantom  had 
flitted  before  them,  and  that 
they  had  heard  the  cries  of  a 
new-born  child. 

When  he  awoke  the  next 
morning,  the  king  collected 
his  thoughts,  and  began  for 
the  first  time  to  reflect  calm- 
ly. He  suspected  that  he  had 
been  the  victim  of  some  trick- 
ery, and  that  the  author  of  the 
crime  was  the  little  gray  man.     He  sent  for  him  at  once. 

The  little  gray  man  came,  carrying  on  his  shoulder  the 
clothes,  freshly  ironed.  He  bent  his  knee  before  the  queen, 
and  said,  in  a  respectful  tone, 

"  Your  majesty  knows  that  what  I  did  was  only  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  king's  orders.  I  hope  that  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  forgive  me." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  queen  j  "  but  never  do  it  again,  or 
you  will  kill  me  with  fright." 


202 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  But  I  do  not  forgive  you,"  said  the  king,  greatly  vexed 
that  the  queen  should  take  it  upon  herself  to  show  clemency 
without  consulting  her  lord  and  master.  "Listen  to  me, 
you  scoundrel.  If  by  to-morrow  night  you  have  not  stolen 
the  queen  herself  from  her  castle,  to-morrow  night  you  shall 
be  hung." 

"  Your  majesty  !"  cried  the  little  man,  "  hang  me  at  once, 
and  spare  me  twenty-four  hours  of  anguish.  How  do  you 
expect  me  to  succeed  in  such  an  undertaking  .^  It  would  be 
easier  to  pull  down  the  moon  with  my  teeth." 


"  That  is  your  business  and  not  mine,"  returned  the  king. 
"  Meanwhile,  I  shall  order  the  gallows  to  be  set  up." 

The  little  man  went  out  in  despair.  He  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  ready  to  break  his  heart.  The 
king  laughed  for  the  first  time. 

Towards  dusk  a  holy  Capuchin  monk,  with  his  rosary  in 


The  Little  Gray  Man, 


203 


his  hand,  and  his  wallet  upon  his  back,  came  to  the  castle, 
according  to  custom,  to  beg  for  his  convent.  When  the 
queen  gave  him  alms, 

"  Madam  !"  said  he,  "  God  will 
reward  your  charity.  Even  now 
I  bring  you  a  recompense.  To- 
morrow, as  you  well  know,  a 
wretch,  who  is  doubtless  guilty, 
is  to  be  hung  in  the  castle." 

"  Alas !"  returned  the  queen, 
"  I  forgave  him  heartily,  and  would 
gladly  have  saved  his  life." 

"That  cannot  be,"  said  the 
monk ;  "  but  this  man,  who  is  a 
kind  of  wizard,  may  make  you  a 
valuable  gift  before  he  dies.  I 
know  that  he  possesses  three  mar- 
vellous secrets,  one  alone  of  which  is  worth  a  kingdom.  One 
of  these  he  may  be  ready  to  bequeath  to  her  who  looked  on 
him  with  pity." 

"  What  are  these  secrets  ?"  asked  the  queen. 

"  By  virtue  of  the  first,  a  woman  can  make  her  husband 
do  whatever  she  chooses." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  princess,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  "  there 
is  nothing  wonderful  about  that  recipe.  From  the  time  of 
Eve,  of  blessed  memory,  this  mystery  has  been  handed  down 
from  mother  to  daughter.     What  is  the  second  secret  ?" 

"The  second  one  confers  wisdom  and  goodness  on  its 
possessor." 

"  Indeed !"  said  the  queen,  in  an  absent-minded  way ; 
"and  the  third?" 

"  The  third  secures  to  the  woman  who  possesses  it  unequal- 
led beauty,  and  the  power  of  pleasing  to  the  end  of  her  life." 


204  Last  Fairy  'I  ales, 

"  Father,  that  is  the  secret  that  I  want !"  cried  the  queen. 

"  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  obtain  it,"  said  the  monk.  "  It 
is  only  necessary  that  before  dying,  and  while  he  is  still 
at  full  liberty,  the  wizard  should  take  both  your  hands,  and 
blow  three  times  upon  your  hair." 

"  Let  him  come !"  said  the  queen.  "  Father,  go  bring 
him  here !" 

"  That  cannot  be,"  said  the  monk.  "  The  king  has  given 
the  strictest  orders  that  this  man  shall  not  enter  the  castle. 
If  he  sets  his  foot  within  these  grounds,  he  dies  on  the  spot. 
Do  not  deprive  him  of  the  few  hours  he  has  to  live." 

"  But,  father,  the  king  has  forbidden  me  to  go  out  till  to- 
morrow evening." 

"  That  is  a  pity,"  said  the  monk.  "  I  see  that  you  must 
give  up  this  priceless  treasure.  It  would  be  sweet,  how- 
ever, never  to  grow  old,  but  always  to  remain  young  and 
beautiful,  and,  above  all,  beloved." 

"  Alas !  father,  you  are  quite  right.  The  king's  command 
is  the  height  of  injustice.  But  even  if  I  should  attempt  to 
go,  the  guards  would  stop  me.  Don't  look  so  astonished ; 
you  see  how  the  king  treats  me,  with  his  caprices.  I  am  the 
most  unhappy  of  women." 

"My  heart  is  wrung,"  said  the  monk.  "What  tyranny! 
What  barbarism !  Well,  madam,  you  should  not  give  way 
to  such  unreasonable  commands.  It  is  your  duty  to  do  as 
you  please." 

"  But  how  can  I  do  so  ?" 

"There  is  one  way,  if  you  are  strong  in  the  consciousness 
that  you  are  right.  Get  into  this  sack,  and  I  will  carry  you 
out  of  the  castle  at  the  risk  of  my  life.  And  fifty  years 
hence,  when  you  are  as  young  and  beautiful  as  you  are  to- 
day, you  will  applaud  yourself  for  resisting  the  will  of  a  ty- 
rant." 


The  Little  Gray  Man. 


205 


"  Very  well,"  said  the  queen.  "  But  is  not  this  some  snare 
laid  for  me?" 

"  Madam,"  said  the  holy  man,  raising  his  hands  to  heaven 
and  beating  his  breast,  "  as  sure  as  I  am  a  monk,  you  have 
nothing  to  fear.  Besides,  I  will  stay  by  your  side  all  the 
time  you  are  with  this  unhappy  man." 

"  And  you  will  bring  me  back  to  the  castle  ?" 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  And  with  the  secret  ?" 

"  With  the  secret.  But  if  your  majesty  has  any  scruples, 
stay  here  and  let  the  secret  die  with  its  possessor,  unless  he 
chooses  to  give  it  to  some  more  confiding  woman." 

For  her  sole  answer,  the  queen  crept  into  the  sack  ;  the 
monk  drew  the  strings  together,  threw  the  bundle  over  his 
shoulder,  and  crossed  the  courtyard  with  measured  steps. 
On  his  way  he  met  the  king,  who  was  making  his  rounds. 

"The  alms  must  have  been  plentiful  to-day,  judging  by 
appearances,"  said  the  king. 


2o6  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"Sire,"  answered  the  monk,  "your  majesty's  charity  is 
inexhaustible,  and  I  fear  that  I  have  abused  it.  Perhaps  I 
had  better  leave  this  sack  and  its  contents." 

"No!  no!"  said  the  king;  "carry  it  away,  father,  and 
good  riddance  to  it.  I  fancy  that  all  you  have  there  is  not 
worth  much.     You  will  make  a  slender  supper." 

"  I  wish  your  majesty  may  sup  with  as  good  an  appetite," 
returned  the  monk,  as  he  went  away,  muttering  under  his 
breath. 

The  supper-bell  rang,  and  the  king  entered  the  dining- 
room,  rubbing  his  hands.  He  was  satisfied  with  himself, 
and  he  hoped  to  have  vengeance — a  double  reason  for  being 
hungry. 

"  The  queen  pot  down  yet !"  said  he,  sarcastically.  "  That 
does  not  surprise  me,  however ;  unpunctuality  is  the  virtue 
of  women." 

He  was  about  to  sit  down  to  the  table,  when  three  soldiers 
entered,  crossing  their  halberds,  and  driving  before  them  the 
little  gray  man. 

"Sire,"  said  one  of  the  guards,  "this  fellow  has  had  the 
audacity  to  enter  the  courtyard  of  the  castle  in  spite  of  the 
royal  command.  We  should  have  hung  him  on  the  spot, 
without  disturbing  your  majesty's  supper,  but  he  pretends 
that  he  has  a  message  from  the  queen,  and  that  he  is  the 
bearer  of  a  state  secret." 

"  The  queen  !"  cried  the  king,  amazed.  "  Where  is  she, 
wretch  ?  and  what  have  you  done  with  her  ?" 

"  I  have  stolen  her,"  said  the  little  man,  coolly. 

"  But  how  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"  Sire,  that  monk,  with  the  huge  sack  on  his  back,  to  whom 
your  majesty  deigned  to  say, '  Take  it  away,  and  good  rid- 
dance to  it '  " — 

"  Was  you !"  said  the  prince.     "  Wretch,  there  is  no  longer 


The  Little  Gray  Man.  207 

any  safety  for  me.  One  of  these  days  you  will  take  me,  and 
my  kingdom  into  the  bargain." 

"  Sire,  I  come  to  ask  you  for  more  than  that." 

"You  frighten  me,"  said  the  king.  "Who  are  you  —  a 
wizard,  or  the  devil  in  person  ?" 

"  No,  sire.  I  am  simply  the  Prince  of  Holar.  You  have 
a  marriageable  daughter.  I  was  on  my  way  to  ask  her 
hand,  when  the  bad  weather  forced  me  and  my  squire  to 
take  refuge  with  the  curate  of  Skalholt.  There  I  chanced 
to  fall  in  with  a  foolish  countryman,  who  made  me  play  the 
part  you  know.  All  that  I  have  done,  moreover,  has  been 
only  to  obey  and  please  your  majesty." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  king.  "  I  understand  ;  or,  rather,  I 
don't  understand.  No  matter.  Prince  Holar,  I  would 
rather  have  you  for  a  son-in-law  than  a  neighbor.  Where  is 
the  queen  ?" 

"  Sire,  she  is  here.  My  squire  was  ordered  to  bring  her 
to  the  palace." 

The  queen  soon  entered,  a  little  abashed  at  her  credulity, 
but  easily  consoled  by  thinking  that  she  would  have  so  clever 
a  son-in-law. 

"  But  the  famous  secret,"  she  whispered  to  the  Prince  of 
Holar;  "you  owe  it  to  me." 

"  The  secret  of  being  always  beautiful,"  said  the  prince, 
"is  to  be  always  beloved." 

"  And  the  way  to  be  always  beloved  ?"  said  the  queen. 

"Is  to  be  good  and  simple,  and  to  do  your  husband's 
will." 

"  He  dares  say  that  he  is  a  wizard,"  said  the  queen,  in- 
dignantly raising  her  hands  to  heaven. 

"  Have  done  with  these  mysteries !"  cried  the  king,  who 
was  beginning  to  be  nervous.  "Prince  Holar,  when  you 
marry  our  daughter,  you  will   have   more   time  than   you 


208 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


will  want  to  talk  with  your  mother-in-law.  The  supper  is 
cooling.  To  table !  Amuse  yourself,  my  son-in-law !  Give 
the  evening  to  pleasure  !     To-morrow  you  will  be  married." 


At  these  words,  which  he  thought  witty,  the  king  looked 
at  the  queen,  who  answered  with  such  a  frown  that  he  in- 
stantly began  to  rub  his  chin,  and  watch  the  flies  on  the 
ceiling. 


Here  end  the  adventures  of  Prince  Holar.  Happy  days 
have  no  history.  We  know,  however,  that  he  succeeded  his 
father-in-law,  and  that  he  was  a  great  king.  Something  of  a 
liar  and  something  of  a  robber ;  bold  and  cunning,  he  had 
the  virtues  of  a  conqueror.  He  took  from  his  neighbors 
more  than  a  thousand  leagues  of  snow,  which  he  lost  and 
won  three  times  by  the  sacrifice  of  half  a  dozen  armies. 
His  name,  however,  figures  gloriously  in  the  celebrated  an- 
nals of  Skalholt  and  Holar,  and  to  these  famous  documents 
we  refer  our  reader. 


-^■^ 


GAGLIUSO:  OR,  THE  GOOD  CAT. 

A   FAIRY   TALE    FROM    THE   PENTAMERON. 

Ingratitude,  sirs,  is  a  nail  that  blights  the  tree  of 
courtesy  when  once  it  is  driven  in  it ;  it  is  a  broken  arch, 
that  lays  in  ruins  the  foundations  of  affection ;  it  is  a  hand- 
ful of  soot  that,  falling  into  the  dish  of  friendship,  destroys 
its  taste  and  flavor,  as  is  seen  and  proved  daily,  as  well  as 
by  the  tale  which  I  am  about  to  tell. 

There  was  once  in  my  beloved  city  of  Naples  a  poor  old 
man  named  Gagliuso,  so  squalid  and  destitute  that  he  was 
as  naked  as  a  worm.  Feeling  himself  at  the  point  of 
death,  he  said  to  his  two  children,  Oratiello  and  Pippo,  "  My 
sons,  I  am  summoned  to  pay  the  debt  of  nature.  Believe 
me.  Christians  as  you  are,  that  my  only  regret  in  quitting 
this  sad  abode  of  toil  and  pain  is  that  I  leave  you  without 
a  farthing.  Alas !  you  will  have  less  than  a  fly  could  carry 
off  on  his  foot.  I  have  led  a  dog's  life  ;  I  have  dined  off  an 
empty  stomach,  and  gone  to  bed  in  the  dark.  But  in  spite 
of  all,  I  wish  on  my  deathbed  to  leave  you  some  token  of 
my  love.  Oratiello,  my  first-born,  take  that  wallet  hanging 
on  the  wall,  and  may  you  find  in  it  every  night  what  I  have 
often  sought  in  vain  all  day,  a  crust  of  bread.  As  to  you, 
14 


2IO 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


my  youngest,  take  the  cat.  My  children,  remember  your 
dear  father."  With  these  words,  he  burst  into  tears,  and  a 
little  while  after  said,  "  Farewell,  it  is  night." 

Oratiello  buried  his  father  at  the  public  expense;  after 
which  he  plucked  up  his  courage,  and  went  down  to  the  bay 
to  help  the  fishermen  draw  the  seine. 


—^    * _C?-      -V."  "^ 


But  Pippo,  looking  at  the  cat,  cried,  "  See  what  a  fine 
legacy  my  father  has  left  me !  I  cannot  keep  myself,  and 
here  I  have  two  mouths  to  feed  !" 

The  cat  heard  these  lamentations,  and  remarked,  "You 
complain  without  cause,  and  have  more  luck  than  sense. 
You  do  not  know  your  good-fortune,  for  I  can  make  you 
rich  if  I  set  about  it." 

Pippo  felt  that  she  was  right.  He  stroked  the  cat  three 
or  four  times,  and  warmly  besought  the  favor  of  Dame  Puss, 
who  took  compassion  on  the  poor  lad.  She  went  out  every 
morning,  to  the  bay,  or  the  fish-market,  where  she  managed 
to  lay  hold  of  some  huge  mullet  or  superb  sword-fish,  which 
she  carried  to  the  king,  saying,  "  Your  majesty's  slave,  Signer 


l^" 


JESSINEP/RH.PIIiE 


ZAU^onms  txtsxsm 


She  managed  to  lay  hold  of  some  huge  mullet  or  superb  sword-fish, 
which  she  carried  to  the  king." 


212 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


Gagliuso,  sends  this  fish,  with  his  compliments,  as  a  small 
gift  to  a  great  prince." 

Upon  which  the  king,  with  the  pleased  air  of  one  receiv- 
ing a  present,  would  answer,  "  Tell  this  stranger  gentleman 
that  I  am  infinitely  obliged  to  him." 


\. 


Another  time  the  cat  would  scour  the  fields  and  marshes, 
and  when  the  hunters  shot  down  a  blackbird,  lark,  or  wood- 
cock, would  snatch  up  the  game,  and  hurry  with  it  on  the 
same  errand  to  the  king.  She  used  this  artifice  so  long  that 
at  last,  one  morning,  the  king  said,  "  I  am  under  so  many 
obligations  to  Signor  Gagliuso,  that  I  should  like  to  make 
his  acquaintance  and  thank  him  for  all  his  courtesy."  The 
cat  replied,  "  Signor  Gagliuso's  blood  and  life  are  at  your 


Gagliuso;  or,  the  Good  Cat, 


213 


majesty's  disposal.     My  master  will  wait  upon  you  to-mor- 
row morning  without  fail." 

Morning  having  come,  the  cat  hastened  to  the  king,  cry- 
ing,  "  Signor  Gagliuso  begs  you  to  excuse  him  for  not  pre- 
senting himself  before  you.  Some  of  his  rascally  valets  ran 
off  with  his  clothes  last  night ;  the  thieves  have  not  left  him 
a  shirt  to  his  back." 


On  hearing  this,  the  king  ordered  a  quantity  of  linen  and 
wearing  apparel  to  be  taken  from  his  own  wardrobe  and 
sent  to  Gagliuso.  Before  two  hours  had  passed  our  hero 
entered  the  palace,  escorted  by  the  cat.  The  king  received 
him  most  graciously,  and  seating  him  by  his  side,  ordered  a 
magnificent  feast  to  be  served  him. 

While  they  were  at  dinner,  Gagliuso  turned  from  time  to 
time  to  the  cat,  and  said,  "  Look  here,  Puss,  keep  an  eye 


214 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


on  our  things  !**  to  which  she  answered,  "Hnsh!  hush!  don't 
speak  of  such  trifles."  The  king  asked  what  troubled  Gag- 
liuso,  whereupon  the  cat  said  that  he  would  like  a  small 
lemon,  when  the  king  sent  to  the  garden  for  a  whole  basketful. 
But  Gagliuso  continued  to  repeat  the  same  thing,  while  the 
cat  tried  to  hush  him,  and  when  the  king  insisted  upon  know- 
ing what  was  the  matter,  invented  one  excuse  after  another 
to  conceal  her  master's  meanness,  in  thinking  that  any  one 
there  would  be  likely  to  steal  his  hat  and  cloak. 

At  last,  after  sitting  long  at  the  table,  talking  of  one  thing 
and  another,  Gagliuso  asked  permission  to  withdraw.  Left 
alone  with  the  king,  the  cat  extolled  her  master's  merit,  wit, 
and  good  sense,  and,  above  all,  the  immense  wealth  that 


Gagliuso ;  or,  the  Good  Cat, 


215 


he  possessed  in  the  Roman  Campagna  and  Lombardy.  He 
was  just  such  a  son-in-law  as  a  crowned  head  might  desire. 
The  king,  asking  what  his  fortune  might  be,  the  cat  declared 
that  it  was  impossible  to  reckon  the  value  of  the  goods  and 
chattels  of  this  Croesus,  who  did  not  know  himself  what  he 
was  worth.  But  if  the  king  wished  to  be  sure,  it  was  a  very 
easy  matter;  he  had  only  to  send  some  trusty  messengers 
across  the  frontier,  and  they  would  learn  for  themselves  that 
there  was  no  wealth  in  the  world  like  Gagliuso's. 


^'K2i 


The  king  summoned  his  faithful  counsellors,  and  ordered 
them  carefully  to  inquire  into  the  affair.     They  followed  the 


2l6 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


cat,  who,  as  soon  as  they  had  crossed  the  frontier,  ran  on 
before,  on  the  pretence  of  preparing  refreshments.  Where- 
ever  she  found  a  flock  of  sheep,  cows,  horses,  or  swine,  she 
said  to  the  shepherds,  or  keepers,  "  Look  here !  there  is  a 
company  of  robbers  coming  to  plunder  everything  they  find. 
If  you  wish  to  escape  and  save  your  property,  you  must  say, 
'All  this  belongs  to  Signor  Gagliuso!'  and  they  will  not 
touch  a  hair." 


/ 


\y 


k%4 


m 


Gagliuso ;  or^  the  Good  Cat.  217 

She  repeated  the  same  thing  at  all  the  farms  along  the 
way,  so  that,  wherever  the  king's  messengers  went,  they 
heard  the  same  song.  All  that  they  saw  belonged  to  Sig- 
nor  Gagliuso.  Tired  of  asking  the  same  question,  they  re- 
turned to  the  king  and  told  him  wonders  concerning  Signor 
Gagliuso's  possessions.  On  hearing  this  the  monarch  prom- 
ised the  cat  a  heavy  fee  if  she  would  make  the  match,  and 
her  friendly  tongue  bobbed  back  and  forth  like  a  shuttle  till 
it  had  woven  the  whole  intrigue.  Gagliuso  offered  himself, 
and  the  king  gave  him  a  fat  dowry  with  his  daughter. 

After  a  month's  merry-making  Gagliuso  told  his  royal 
father-in-law  that  he  wished  to  carry  his  bride  to  his  estates. 
The  king  accompanied  them  as  far  as  the  frontier,  after  which 
they  went  to  Lombardy,  where,  by  the  cat's  advice,  Gagliuso 
bought  a  vast  domain  with  the  title  of  baron. 

Master  Gagliuso,  on  seeing  himself  as  rich  as  a  prince, 
thanked  the  cat  in  the  warmest  way  imaginable,  telling  her 
over  and  over  again  that  it  was  to  her  that  he  owed  his 
wealth  and  grandeur.  The  wit  of  a  cat  had  done  more 
for  him  than  all  his  father's  sense.  She  might  dispose  of 
the  property  and  life  of  her  dear  master  as  she  saw  fit.  And 
when  she  died — would  to  Heaven  that  she  might  live  a  hun- 
dred years ! — he  pledged  her  his  word  that  he  would  have 
her  embalmed  and  put  in  a  golden  casket,  which  he  would 
keep  in  his  chamber,  that  he  might  always  have  her  cher- 
ished remembrance  before  his  eyes. 

The  cat  was  greatly  puffed  up  with  all  these  fine  speeches. 
Before  three  days  had  passed,  she  stretched  herself  at  full 
length  along  the  garden  terrace,  pretending  to  be  dead. 

"  Husband  !  husband  !"  cried  Gagliuso's  wife,  "  what  a 
great  misfortune !  the  cat  is  dead  !" 

"  The  deuce  take  her,"  answered  Gagliuso ;  "  better  that 
she  should  die  than  we." 


2l8 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  What  shall  we  do  with  her  ?"  asked  the  princess. 
"Take  her  by  the  paw  and  fling  her  out  of  the  win- 
dow." 


On  hearing  this  funeral  oration,  which  was  not  exactly 
what  she  was  looking  for,  the  cat  jumped  up,  and  cried:  "So 
these  are  your  thanks  to  me  for  cleansing  you  of  your  filth ! 
This  is  your  gratitude  for  stripping  you-  of  rags  fit  for  noth- 
ing but  a  wad  for  a  distaff!  This  is  the  way  you  reward 
me  for  feeding  you,  you  scoundrel !  for  clothing  you,  you 
wretch !  But  it  is  wasting  soap  to  wash  an  ass's  head.  Ac- 
cursed be  all  I  have  done  for  you.  You  are  not  even  worth 
the  trouble  of  spitting  in  your  face.  A  fine  gold  casket 
you  have  made  ready  for  me !  A  splendid  funeral  you  have 
ordered  for  me!     Well,  puss,  you  have   sweated,  labored, 


Gagliuso  ;  or^  the  Good  Cat, 


219 


and  worn  yourself  out,  to  be  paid  in  such  coin !  Fool  that 
you  were,  not  to  know  that  service  is  no  inheritance.  The 
philosopher  was  right  who  said,  *He  who  goes  to  bed  an 
ass  will  get  up  an  ass.'  The  more  one  does,  the  more  one 
may  do.  But  fine  words  and  foul  deeds  deceive  wise  men 
and  fools  alike." 


V 


With  these  words  she  started  for  the  door.  Gagliuso  fol- 
lowed, and  attempted  in  the  humblest  accents  to  soften  her. 
His  labor  was  in  vain ;  she  would  not  return,  but  went 
straight  onward,  without  turning  her  head,  saying,  "  Beware 
of  enriching  a  pauper,  he  is  sure  to  turn  out  a  villain." 


220 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


And  now,  friendly  reader,  that  you  know  Basilio's  version 
of  Puss  in  Boots,  referred  to  in  our  Preface,  as  well  as  the 
old,  familiar  one,  tell  us  which  is  the  original  and  which  the 
copy.     Guess  if  you  can,  and  choose  if  you  dare. 

A  learned  friend  suggests  that  it  is  not  necessary  that  one 
of  these  stories  should  be  a  repetition  of  the  other ;  both 
may  have  come  from  a  common  theme.  It  is  a  melody 
which  has  been  sung  in  many  countries,  but  though  it  has 
produced  more  than  one  variation  in  its  journeyings,  it  is 
still  the  same  melody,  which  each  nurse  sings  in  her  own  key. 

Here  is  another  example ;  a  Middle  Age  fable,  found  in 
the  Recitals  of  a  Minstrel  of  Rheims  of  the  13th  Century, 
published  by  the  Historical  Society  of  France.  We  give  it 
as  it  was  chanted  by  a  minstrel  in  the  days  of  St.  Louis. 


^^^^^^^ 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  GOAT 

A   MEDIAEVAL    FABLE. 

There  was  once  a  wolf  named  Isengrin,  who  had  a  piece 
of  arable  land.  He  went  to  a  goat,  with  two  kids,  and  said 
to  her,  "  Dame  Goat,  I  have  a  bit  of  an  old  vineyard  that  I 
would  like  to  have  you  farm  for  me  on  shares.  The  soil  is  so 
fertile  that  it  will  bear  wheat  without  enriching;  and,  I  as- 
sure you,  that  I  would  much  rather  till  it  all  myself  than 
divide  it  with  others.  But  I  have  an  important  suit  before 
my  noble  lord  Lion,  against  Belin,  the  shepherd,  who  pre- 
tends that  I  have  eaten  two  of  his  sheep,  so  that  I  have  to 
go  to  court  every  week,  and  furnish  counsel,  at  a  heavy  cost." 

"  I  dare  not,"  answered  the  goat. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Forsooth,  because  you  are  a  great  and  mighty  lord,  with 
powerful  connections,  while  I  am  an  humble  and  defenceless 
creature.  It  would  be  useless  for  me  ever  to  bring  a  suit 
against  you,  in  case  we  should  disagree." 

"  Zounds  !"  cried  the  wolf,  "  Dame  Goat,  my  fair  friend, 
what  have  you  to  fear  from  me  ?  I  swear  by  the  faith  I  owe 
Dame  Hersent,  my  wife,  and  by  the  twelve  living  children 
she  has  given  me,  that  I  will  deal  honestly  by  you,  and  never 
wrong  you  in  all  my  life." 


222  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  Well,"  said  the  goat,  "  I  will  do  it ;  but  I  have  great 
misgivings  that  you  will  not  give  me  my  fair  share." 

The  wolf  went  away.  The  goat  cleared  the  ground  of  the 
vine-roots,  ploughed  it,  and  sowed  it  with  wheat,  which  yielded 
a  fine  crop.  When  harvest-time  had  come,  she  went  to  the 
wolf  and  said,  "  Sir  Wolf,  our  wheat  is  ripe ;  will  you  come, 
or  send  some  one,  to  look  after  it  ?" 

"  In  faith,"  returned  the  wolf,  "  I  can  neither  go  nor  send  ; 
gather  it  in  yourself;  put  the  grain  on  one  side  and  the  straw 
on  the  other,  and  when  I  return  from  court  we  will  make  a 
fair  division." 

The  goat  left,  unable  to  obtain  any  other  answer.  She 
cut  and  thrashed  the  wheat,  and  put  the  grain  on  one  side 
and  the  straw  on  the  other. 

No  sooner  had  she  finished  than  the  wolf  appeared.  This 
was  what  he  had  been  waiting  for.  He  went  to  the  goat, 
and  said,  loftily,  "  Come,  dame,  shall  we  divide  the  crop  ?" 

"Whenever  you  please,  noble  sir,"  answered  she.  "  Here 
is  the  grain  on  one  side,  and  the  straw  on  the  other,  as  you 
commanded ;  take  half  of  each." 

"  Out  upon  you,  foolish  beast,  you  do  not  know  what  you 
are  talking  about.     I  shall  do  no  such  thing." 

"  What  will  you  do,  then  ?"  asked  the  goat. 

"  Forsooth,  I  am  a  great  lord,  and  have  an  expensive  house- 
hold to  keep  up.  My  needs  are  greater  than  yours,  you 
underling.  A  little  will  suffice  for  you ;  you  shall  have  the 
straw  and  I  will  take  the  grain." 

"  Oh,  my  lord,  you  are  unjust ;  for  God's  sake,  take  your 
share  and  leave  me  mine." 

"Zounds  !"  cried  the  wolf,  "  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind. 
And  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  come  back  to-morrow  to  know 
whether  you  will  do  as  I  wish." 

The  wolf  departed.     The  goat  stood  aghast.     Suddenly, 


The  Wolf  and  the  Goat, 


223 


she  bethought  herself  of  two  mastiffs  that  she  had  nursed, 
and  that  lived  near  by,  at  the  Abbey  of  Citeaux.  One  was 
named  Tabarel  and  the  other  Roenel.  The  goat  went 
straightway  there,  and  found  them  sitting  by  the  gate.  On 
seeing  their  foster-mother  they  ran  to  meet  her,  gave  her  a 
warm  welcome,  and  asked  what  brought  her  hither.  She 
told  them  how  the  wolf  wished  to  treat  her. 


2^4  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"  In  faith,"  cried  both  the  dogs,  "  by  our  fangs,  but  this 
shall  not  be.  Return  home,  dear  mother,  we  promise  to  be 
there  early  in  the  morning,  to  see  the  division  between  you 
and  Isengrin.  Please  Heaven,  Sir  Wolf  shall  not  wrong  you 
while  we  are  by !" 

The  goat  returned  home,  and  found  her  kids  crying.  She 
quieted  them,  and  went  to  bed.  However,  she  slept  little, 
and  rose  very  early,  praying  to  God  for  aid. 

The  two  brothers,  Tabarel  and  Roenel,  appeared.  They 
bade  her  good-morning,  and  asked  if  Isengrin  had  come. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  answered. 

"Mother,"  said  the  dogs,  "we  have  thought  of  a  good 
plan.  We  will  creep  under  this  heap  of  straw,  and  curl  our- 
selves up  there  until  we  see  and  hear  what  Isengrin  means 
to  do.  For,  if  he  knew  we  were  here,  perhaps  he  would  not 
come,  but  would  wait  until  we  were  gone." 

"  You  are  right,  my  children,"  replied  the  goat.  And  the 
dogs  crept  under  the  straw. 

Isengrin  soon  appeared,  bringing  with  him  his  friend  and 
counsellor,  Reynard  the  fox,  who  had  played  him  more  than 
one  scurvy  trick.  "Well,  dame,"  said  he  to  the  goat,  "have 
you  consulted  your  friends  yet  ?" 

"  Whom  could  I  consult  ?"  answered  the  goat.  "  Take 
your  share,  and  leave  me  mine." 

"  Grumble  as  much  as  you  like,  it  shall  be  as  I  say,"  ex- 
claimed the  wolf. 

While  the  wolf  and  goat  were  disputing,  Reynard  cast  his 
eyes  on  the  heap  of  straw  and  saw  the  dogs'  tails  sticking  out. 

"  Neighbor,  be  on  your  guard,"  said  he  to  Isengrin.  "  I 
see  more  in  this  business  than  you  do." 

"  Come  what  will.  Sir  Reynard,  I  mean  to  have  my  way  in 
the  matter.  I  will  have  the  grain  and  she  shall  take  the 
straw." 


Reynard  .c^st  hjs  eye^  on  the  heap  of  straw  and  saw  the  dogs'  tails 
sticking  out." 


226 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  Mark  me,  neighbor,"  said  Reynard,  "  what  I  tell  you  is 
only  for  your  good ;  and  may  good  befall  you !  Beware !  I 
am  going  away." 

Reynard  quitted  Isengrin  and  mounted  a  hillock  close  by 
to  see  how  the  affair  would  end.  Isengrin  and  his  cartmen 
took  their  sacks  and  filled  them  with  wheat. 

"Holy  Mother,  help  me!"  cried  the  goat.  "My  chil- 
dren," she  called  to  Roenel  and  Tabarel,  "you  see  how  I  am 
treated !"  And,  behold,  the  dogs  sprang  from  the  straw,  and, 
without  stopping  to  argue  the  matter,  fell  upon  the  wolf, 
threw  him  down,  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  inflicted  more 
than  a  hundred  wounds  upon  his  body,  so  that  locks  of  hair 
flew  in  all  directions.  They  worried  him  until  his  pulse 
and  breath  were  gone,  and  left  him  for  dead. 

Then  they  took  the  wheat ;  and  while  they  were  carrying 


The  Wolf  and  the  Goat  227 

it  to  the  granary  of  the  goat,  the  cartmen  hastened,  with 
great  difficulty,  to  lift  Isengrin  into  the  cart,  and  drove  home 
with  him  at  full  speed. 

And,  behold,  Reynard  came  to  meet  them.  He  had  seen 
the  whole  affair,  and  chuckled  over  it,  for  such  was  his  nat- 
ure. The  pain  of  others  was  his  delight.  He  approached 
the  mangled  wolf,  and  said,  in  a  honeyed  tone : 

"  ftood  neighbor,  I  am  grieved  at  your  accident.  If  you 
had  listened  to  me  it  would  not  have  happened.  I  told  you 
to  be  on  your  guard,  for  I  saw  more  in  the  business  than  you 
did." 

"  Reynard,  Reynard !"  exclaimed  the  wolf,  "  he  who  has 
no  friend  but  you  has  none  at  all.  I  have  been  put  to 
shame ;  but  I  will  have  my  revenge."  And  he  turned  his 
back  on  Reynard,  who  made  a  face  at  him. 

Isengrin  was  carried  to  his  house,  where  Dame  Hersent, 
his  wife,  and  his  children  were  looking  for  him.  When 
they  saw  him  stretched  in  the  cart  on  a  wisp  of  hay,  they 
began  to  laugh  at  him,  saying,  "  He  who  tackles  a  goat  will 
get  a  butting.  Is  this  the  grain  you  were  to  bring  us  for 
our  wheat  cakes?"  Such  was  the  greeting  which  Isengrin 
received  from  his  household.  Whence  came  the  saying, 
"  When  a  man  falls  the  whole  world  treads  upon  him."  He 
was  lifted  from  the  cart,  groaning  and  shamefaced,  and  car- 
ried to  bed.  It  was  five  months  before  his  wounds  were 
healed. 

Let  us  return  to  Roenel  and  Tabarel.  When  they  had 
carried  the  wheat  to  the  granary,  they  said  to  the  goat, 
"  Good  mother,  we  are  going  to  the  abbey,  which  is  close  by ; 
if  you  need  us  we  shall  be  ready  to  help  you.  Take  this 
tiorn  and  blow  on  it  in  case  of  danger,  when  we  will  run  to 
your  aid." 

"Many    thanks,    dear    children,"    answered    the    goat. 


"  He  who  tackles  a  goat  will  get  a  butting. 


The  Wolf  and  the  Goat,  229 

"Blessed  be  the  day  I  nursed  you."  The  dogs  bade  her 
farewell,  and  returned  home. 

As  soon  as  he  had  somewhat  recovered  from  his  advent- 
ure Isengrin  went  to  see  the  goat,  but  she  was  on  her  guard, 
and  as  soon  as  she  spied  him  began  to  blow  the  horn.  And, 
lo !  sounds  of  Bow^  wow^  wow  !  were  heard  in  the  distance, 
as  if  to  say,  Here  we  are  !  here  we  are  I  Upon  this,  Master 
Wolf  pricked  up  his  ears  directly,  and  began  to  amble  gently 
along,  then  took  to  his  heels,  with  his  tail  between  his 
legs,  as  if  the  devil  were  after  him.  He  never  came  back 
again. 

Violence  and  Knavery  almost  always  end  in  the  ruin  of 
the  author.     Honesty  is  the  best  policy. 

This  mediaeval  fable  is  a  new  version  of  the  Wolf  and  the 
Lamb.  But  the  wolf  has  had  the  upper  hand  long  enough, 
and  here  the  lamb,  or,  in  other  words,  the  goat,  has  its  turn. 
It  is  a  law  of  nature  for  us  to  turn  things  wrong  side  out 
after  using  them  on  the  right  side.  In  this  way  David  over- 
throws Goliath,  Omphale  makes  Hercules  hold  her  distaff, 
and  Delilah  robs  Samson  of  his  strength.  Nothing  is  more 
natural.  It  is  the  swinging  of  the  pendulum ;  or  what  the 
universities  call  the  law  of  compensation.  For  example,  if 
our  philosophers  are  to  be  believed,  man  is  descended  from 
the  ape.  This  will  hold  true  uptil  a  new  order  of  things  pre- 
vails, when  it  will  be  found  that  the  ape  is  descended  from 
man.     It  is  inevitable. 


THE  WICKED  DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW. 


Once  upon  a  time  there  were  three  old  women,  who  were 
neighbors,  and  who  lived  together  in  the  greatest  harmony. 
Each  of  them  had  a  son.  The  three  young  men,  who  were 
brought  up  together  and  were  in  the  same  business,  loved 
each  other  like  brothers.  The  friendship  of  the  children 
rendered  the  mutual  affection  of  the  mothers  even  warmer 
than  ever.  But  the  good  women  were  wise ;  they  reflected 
that  death  was  approaching,  and  that  when  they  were  gone 
their  sons  would  be  left  alone.  Their  great  desire  was,  there- 
fore, to  see  them  marry. 

One  day,  as  the  three  friends  were  walking  together,  they 
saw  three  young  girls  in  a  balcony,  who  seemed  to  them  so 
charming  that  they  asked  them  in  marriage  that  very  evening. 
They  did  not  have  to  wait  long  for  an  answer,  and  the  three 


The  Wicked  Daughters-in-Law,  231 


marriages  took  place  the  next  day.  Then,  as  they  were  very 
fond  of  each  other,  and  were  not  rich,  it  was  agreed  that 
they  should  all  live  together  under  one  roof,  and  that  the 
poor  mothers  should  pass  their  old  age  peacefully  with  their 
children. 

Business  compelled  the  three  young  merchants  to  travel, 


232 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


and  it  once  chanced  that  they  were  all  three  obliged  to  be 
absent  for  some  time.  They  were  scarcely  on  the  road  when 
their  wives  began  to  quarrel  with  their  mothers-in-law.  To 
live  with  these  old  women  was  unendurable ;  and  they  were 
determined  at  any  cost  to  rid  themselves  of  this  burden. 
Two  of  them  proposed  simply  to  choke  their  mothers-in-law, 
but  the  youngest  objected.  "  No,"  said  she,  "that  would  be 
cruel,  and,  besides,  it  would  be  no  revenge ;  it  is  better  to 
torment  them  from  morning  till  night,  and  from  night  till 
morning." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  One  of  the  wives  sent  her 
mother-in-law  to  school,  to  learn  to  read  and  write.  It  was 
a  little  late,  at  seventy !'  The  second  one  sent  her  mother- 
in-law  to  a  fiddler,  to  learn  to  play  the  fiddle ;  and  the  third 
shut  hers  up  in  the  cellar,  with  a  basket  of  eggs  to  hatch.  In 
this  way  the  fair  dames  rid  themselves  of  their  troublesome 
companions,  and  led  a  merry  and  contented  life  in  their  hus- 
bands' absence. 


The  Wicked  Daughter s-m-Law.  233 

On  returning  to  town,  the  three  friends  were  astonished  at 
the  uproar  that  prevailed  in  the  school.  They  looked  through 
the  window,  and  saw  an  old  woman  trying  to  say  the  alpha- 
bet. As  she  did  not  know  the  letters,  the  teacher  scolded 
and  punished  her,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  mischievous 
urchins. 

"Is  not  that  your  mother?"  asked  one  of  the  friends  of  his 
companion. 

"  Ho !  there  ;  mother,  what  are  you  doing  at  school  ?" 
cried  the  young  man. 

"  It  was  your  wife,  my  daughter-in-law,  that  sent  me  here. 
You  see  how  I  am  treated." 

"Be  patient  for  a  little  while,  mother,  I  will  soon  come 
and  take  you  away." 

Two  paces  beyond  lived  the  fiddler,  and  it  was  almost  as 
noisy  there  as  at  the  school.  A  poor  old  woman  was  squeak- 
ing her  bow  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  set  all  the  dogs  in  the 
neighborhood  howling,  while  all  around  scoffed  at  her,  and 
roared  with  laughter. 

"  Oh,  mother !"  cried  one  of  the  friends,  "  what  are  you 
doing  there?" 

"  Alas,  my  son,  it  was  your  wife,  my  daughter-in-law,  that 
set  me  to  learn  this  trade." 

"Be  patient  for  a  little  while,  mother,  I  will  soon  come 
and  take  you  away." 

On  approaching  the  house,  they  heard  groans  in  the  cel- 
lar. The  three  companions  looked  through  the  darkness, 
and  discerned  an  old  woman  crouching  over  a  basket,  with 
nothing  near  her  but  a  crust  of  dry  bread  and  a  jug  of  water. 

"Ah!  mother,"  cried  one  of  the  friends,  "what  are  you 
doing  there  ?" 

"  Alas !  my  son,  it  was  your  wife,  my  daughter-in-law,  who 
put  me  where  you  find  me." 


234 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


"  Be  patient  for  a  little  while,  mother,  I  will  soon  come 
and  take  you  away." 

The  three  friends  entered  the  house,  their  hearts  burning 
with  wrath.  They  found  their  wives  dressed  in  mourning, 
with  tears  in  their  eyes. 

"What  has  happened.'"' 

"  Alas !"  cried  each  of  the  wives,  "  I  have  lost  my  dear 
mother-in-law." 

"What!  all  three  dead ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  their  wives,  "all  three  are  gone." 

The  three  husbands  sighed,  and  seemed  deeply  grieved, 
like  good  sons.  But  the  very  next  morning  they  said  to 
their  wives, 

"Dress  yourselves  handsomely,  and  we  will  take  a  sail 
and  enjoy  ourselves." 

The  delighted  wives  put  on  their  best  gowns.     How  happy 


The  Wicked  Daughter S'in-Law.  235 


^^ 


they  were  to  have  rid  themselves  of  their  mothers-in-law, 
and  so  easily  deceived  their  husbands.  They  would  have 
laughed  less  had  they  known  of  three  sacks  in  the  boat,  hid- 
den under  a  seat. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  at  sea,  the  faces  of  the  three 
men  turned  black  as  thunder.  Each  of  them  seized  his 
wife,  thrust  her  into  a  sack,  and  flung  her  into  the  water, 
crying,  "Go  send  your  mother-in-law  to  school,  to  play  the 
fiddle,  or  to  hatch  eggs  !" 

After  which  the  three  sons  took  their  mothers  home  with 
them,  and  vowed  never  to  marry  again. 


THE  SPINNING  QUEEN, 

A    DALMATIAN    FAIRY   TALE. 

There  was  once  a  Dalmatian  woman  who  had  a  daugh- 
ter as  beautiful  as  the  day,  but  hopelessly  lazy  and  unwilling 
to  do  any  kind  of  work.  After  vainly  trying  to  coax  her  to 
be  useful,  the  mother  took  her  to  the  forest,  near  a  cross- 
road, and  began  to  beat  her  with  all  her  might.  Just  then 
the  prince  chanced  to  pass  that  way,  who  asked  why  she 
treated  the  girl  so  cruelly. 

"  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  it  is  because  our  daughter  wears 
our  life  out  with  her  intolerable  industry.  She  spins  up 
everything,  even  to  the  moss  that  grows  on  the  walls." 

"  Let  me  have  her,"  said  the  prince.  "  I  will  give  her 
wherewith  to  spin  to  her  heart's  content." 

"  Take  her,"  said  the  mother,  "  take  her,  I  am  glad  to  be 
rid  of  her." 

The  prince  carried  her  home,  enchanted  with  such  a  val- 
uable acquisition.  The  same  evening,  he  shut  the  young 
girl  up  alone  in  a  chamber  with  a  huge  load  of  flax.  What 
to  do  in  such  a  plight  she  knew  not.  She  paced  up  and 
down,  wringing  her  hands,  and  crying,  "What  will  become 
of  me  ?     I  can't  spin,  and  I  won't  spin." 

Her  anguish  was  at  its  height,  when  behold,  at  midnight, 
three  old  witches  tapped  at  the  window-pane,  and  she  quick- 
ly let  them  in. 


"  On  seeing  how  ugly  they  were,  the  prince  could  not  forbear  saying  tq 
his  bride  '  Your  aunts  are  not  handsome.'  " 


238  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

"  If  you  will  ask  us  to  your  wedding,  we  will  help  you 
spin  this  evening,"  said  they. 

"  Spin,  ladies,"  she  answered ;  "  I  will  ask  you  with  all  my 
heart." 

And  behold,  the  three  witches  spun  and  spun  all  the  flax 
that  was  there  while  Miss  Lazybones  slept  at  her  ease. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  prince  came  to  the  chamber,  he 
saw  the  whole  wall  hung  with  skeins  of  thread  and  the  girl 
asleep.  He  went  out  on  tiptoe,  and  forbade  any  one  to  en- 
ter the  room,  so  that  the  spinner  could  rest  after  her  hard 
labor.  This  did  not  prevent  him  from  sending  thither  on 
the  same  day  a  second  huge  load  of  flax.  The  witches  re- 
turned at  midnight,  and  finished  the  work,  as  the  night  be- 
fore. The  prince  was  wonder-struck;  and  as  there  was 
nothing  more  to  spin  in  the  house,  he  said  to  the  young  girl, 

"  I  will  marry  you,  for  you  are  the  Spinning  Queen." 

On  the  evening  before  the  wedding,  the  pretended  spinner 
said  to  the  prince,  "  I  must  invite  my  aunts." 

"  They  shall  be  welcome,"  was  his  answer. 

Once  admitted,  the  three  witches  grouped  themselves 
around  the  stove.  They  were  hideous  to  behold.  On  see- 
ing how  ugly  they  were,  the  prince  could  not  forbear  saying 
to  his  bride,  "  Your  aunts  are  not  handsome." 

Then,  approaching  the  first  witch,  he  asked  her  why  her 
nose  was  so  long. 

"  My  dear  nephew,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  through  spin- 
ning so  much.  When  one  spins  all  the  time  and  wags  her 
head  all  day  long,  the  nose  grows  long  insensibly." 

The  prince  passed  on  to  the  second,  and  asked  her  why 
her  lips  were  so  thick. 

"  My  dear  nephew,"  said  she,  "  it  is  through  spinning  so 
much.  When  one  spins  all  the  time,  and  moistens  the 
thread  all  day  long,  the  lips  grow  thick  insensibly." 


The  Spinning  Queen,  239 

He  then  asked  the  third  why  she  was  so  humpbacked. 

"  My  dear  nephew,"  said  she,  "  it  is  through  spinning  so 
much.  When  one  sits  bent  over  her  work  all  day  long,  the 
back  becomes  humped  insensibly." 

Upon  this,  the  prince  was  seized  with  such  a  fear  that, 
through  spinning,  his  wife  might  become  as  horrible  as  these 
thiee  frights,  that  he  flung  both  spindle  and  distaff  into  the 
fire,  and  forbade  her  ever  again  to  spin  a  thread,  under  pen- 
alty of  his  deep  displeasure.  What  anger  this  caused  the 
bride,  I  leave  those  to  guess  who  resemble  her. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  SERPENTS. 

A    FAIRY   TALE    OF   THE  DANUBE. 

'  There  was  once  a  shepherd  who  had  served  his  master 
zealously  and  faithfully  for  long  years.  One  day,  as  he  was 
watching  his  flocks,  he  heard  a  hissing  noise,  that  came  from 
the  woods.  Wishing  to  learn  what  it  was,  he  entered  the 
forest  and  followed  the  sound.  After  going  on  a  little  way, 
he  saw  that  the  dry  grass  and  dead  leaves  had  caught  fire, 
making  a  blazing  circle,  in  the  midst  of  which  a  serpent  was 
hissing.  The  shepherd  stopped  to  see  what  it  would  do,  as 
the  flames  were  fast  closing  in  upon  it.  On  spying  him,  the 
serpent  cried,  "  For  God's  sake,  save  me  from  the  fire !" 
The  shepherd  stretched  his  crook  over  the  flames  to  the 
snake,  which  twined  around  it,  and  glided  on  to  his  hand 
and  thence  to  his  throat,  around  which  it  coiled  itself  like  a 
necklace. 

"  Alas  !"  cried  the  frightened  shepherd,  "  have  I  saved 
you  only  for  my  own  destruction  ?" 

"  Fear  nothing,"  answered  the  snake,  "  but  take  me  back 
to  my  father,  the  King  of  the  Serpents." 

The  shepherd  tried  to  excuse  himself,  saying  that  he  could 
not  leave  his  flock  without  a  keeper ;  but  the  serpent  cried. 


The  King  of  the  Serpents. 


241 


"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  your  sheep ;  no  harm  will 
come  to  them ;  only  make  haste  as  fast  as  you  can." 

The  shepherd  ran  through  the  forest  with  the  snake  coiled 
around  his  neck  till  he  reached  a  gate  made  of  adders  inter- 
laced together.  The  snake  gave  a  hiss,  upon  which  the  ad- 
ders separated,  and  made  way  for  them  to  pass.  The  ser- 
pent then  said  to  the  shepherd,  "  When  we  reach  the  castle, 
my  father  will  offer  you  anything  you  wish :  silver,  gold, 
jewels,  and  all  the  most  precious  treasures  of  earth ;  accept 
16 


242  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

none  of  them,  but  only  ask  to  know  the  language  of  the 
animals.  He  will  long  refuse  this  favor,  but  will  grant  it  at 
last."  While  talking  they  reached  the  castle,  and  were  met 
by  the  King  of  the  Serpents,  who  exclaimed,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  "  My  child,  where  have  you  been  ?" 

The  young  serpent  told  his  father  how  he  had  been  sur- 
rounded by  fire  and  had  been  saved  by  the  shepherd.  The 
King  of  the  Serpents  then  turned  to  the  shepherd  and  said, 

"  What  shall  I  give  you  for  saving  my  child  ?" 

"Teach  me  the  language  of  the  animals,"  he  answered, 
"  that  I  may  talk  with  all  the  earth  as  you  do." 

"  That  would  be  of  no  use  to  you,"  said  the  king,  "  for  if  I 
should  enable  you  to  understand  this  language,  and  you 
should  tell  any  one,  you  would  die  on  the  spot.  Ask  me 
for  something  that  will  serve  you  better,  and  it  shall  be 
yours." 

"  If  you  wish  to  pay  me,"  returned  the  shepherd,  "  teach 
me  the  language  of  the  animals  ;  if  not,  adieu,  and  God  be 
with  you  !     I  want  nothing  else." 

He  feigned  to  depart.  The  king  called  him  back,  saying, 
"  Stop !  come  here,  since  you  insist  upon  it.  Open  your 
mouth." 

The  shepherd  did  as  he  was  bid;  the  king  blew  into  his 
mouth,  and  said,  "  Now  blow  in  turn  in  mine."  When  they 
had  blown  thus  three  times  into  each  other's  mouths,  the 
king  said, "  Now  you  understand  the  language  of  the  animals. 
God  be  with  you  \  but  if  you  care  for  life,  beware  of  betray- 
ing the  secret,  for  if  you  say  a  word  of  it  to  any  one,  you 
are  a  dead  man." 

The  shepherd  returned.  As  he  passed  through  the  wood 
he  heard  what  the  birds,  the  insects,  and  all  on  the  earth 
were  saying.  On  reaching  his  flock,  he  found  it  safe  and 
in  good  order,  and  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  for  a 


The  King  of  the  Serpents, 


243 


nap.  Scarcely  had  he  lain  down  when  two  crows  perched 
on  the  bough  of  a  tree  overhead,  and  said,  in  their  own  lan- 
guage, "What  if  this  shepherd  knew  that  just  under  the 


spot  where  that  black  lamb  is  standing  there  is  a  cavern 
full  of  gold  and  silver!" 

No  sooner  had  the  shepherd  heard  this  than  he  went  and 


244  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

told  his  master.  They  brought  a  wagon,  and  dug  until  they 
found  the  door  of  the  cavern,  the  treasure  of  which  they  car- 
ried off.  The  master  was  a  man  of  honor ;  he  gave  the 
whole  to  the  shepherd,  saying,  "  This  treasure  is  yours  ;  it 
was  God  who  bestowed  it  on  you." 

The  shepherd  took  the  money,  built  a  house,  found  a  wife, 
and  lived  happy  and  contented.  He  soon  became  the  rich- 
est man,  not  only  in  the  village,  but  in  the  country ;  for  ten 
leagues  around  there  was  not  one  that  could  compare  with 
him.  He  had  flocks  of  sheep,  and  herds  of  cattle  and 
horses,  with  a  keeper  for  each  flock  and  herd,  besides  much 
land  and  money.  One  Christmas  Eve  he  said  to  his  wife, 
"Get  ready  a  good  stock  of  wine,  brandy,  and  victuals  to 
carry  to  the  farm  to-morrow,  that  the  shepherds  may  have  a 
feast."  This  was  done,  and  they  all  assembled  at  the  farm  the 
next  day,  when  the  master  said,  "  My  friends,  eat,  drink, 
and  be  merry  ;  I  will  watch  the  flocks  and  herds  to-night  in 
your  place." 

At  midnight,  as  he  was  keeping  guard,  the  wolves  began 
to  howl  and  the  dogs  to  bark.  The  wolves  said,  "  Let  us 
come  in  and  harry  the  cattle,  and  there  will  be  plenty  of 
fresh  meat  for  you." 

And  the  dogs  answered,  "  Come  in ;  we  shall  be  glad  for 
once  to  have  our  fill." 

But  among  the  dogs  there  was  an  old  mastifl"  with  only 
two  fangs  in  his  jaws,  who  said,  "As  long  as  my  two  fangs 
are  left,  you  shall  not  prey  on  my  master's  property." 

The  master  heard  and  understood  everything.  When 
morning  came,  he  ordered  all  the  dogs,  except  the  old  mas- 
tiff", to  be  taken  out  and  shot.  The  astonished  servants  re- 
monstrated, saying  it  was  a  great  pity  to  kill  so  many  fine 
animals,  but  the  master  only  said,  "  Do  as  I  bid  you." 

He  set  out  for  home  with  his  wife,  the  husband  mounted 


The  King  of  the  Serpents.  245 

on  a  handsome  gray  horse,  and  the  wife  on  an  ambling 
mare,  which  was  hidden  from  sight  by  the  long  folds  of  her 
dress.  The  husband  took  the  lead,  and  the  wife  fell  in  the 
rear.     The  horse  turned  and  said  to  the  mare, 

"  Hurry!  why  do  you  go  so  slow?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  easy  enough  for  you  to  go  fast,  with  only  my 
master  to  carry,  but  I  have  not  only  my  mistress,  but  all  her 
necklaces,  bracelets,  skirts,  petticoats,  satchels  and  key-bags 
without  end.  It  needs  two  yoke  of  oxen  to  carry  all  this 
paraphernalia." 

The  husband  turned  and  laughed.  His  wife,  noticing  it, 
pricked  on  her  mare,  and,  having  overtaken  her  spouse, 
asked  what  he  was  laughing  at. 

"  A  mere  nothing,"  said  he ;  "a  foolish  thought  that  en- 
tered my  brain." 

This  did  not  satisfy  his  wife,  who  insisted  on  knowing 
what  he  laughed  at.  Tired  of  her  importunity,  he  cried  out 
at  last,  "  Why  can't  you  leave  me  in  peace  ?  what  business 
is  it  of  yours  ?   I  really  do  not  know  myself  why  I  laughed." 

But  the  more  he  stormed,  the  more  she  persisted  in  know- 
ing the  cause  of  his  laughter.  At  last  he  said,  "  Know 
then  that  if  I  revealed  what  I  was  laughing  at,  that  instant 
would  be  my  last." 

Even  this  did  not  stop  the  dame,  who  tormented  her  hus- 
band more  than  ever  to  tell  her.  At  last  they  reached  home. 
On  alighting  from  his  horse,  the  husband  ordered  a  bier  to 
be  brought.  As  soon  as  it  was  ready,  he  had  it  set  before 
the  house,  and  said  to  his  wife, 

^'  Mark  me,  I  shall  stretch  myself  on  this  bier,  and  then 
tell  you  at  what  I  was  laughing,  but  the  instant  I  have  spok- 
en I  shall  be  a  dead  man." 

He  stretched  himself  on  the  bier,  and  as  he  cast  a  last 
look  around  him  he  saw  the  old  house-dog  approaching, 


246 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


with  tears  in  his  eyes.  The  poor  man  called  to  his  wife  to 
give  him  a  piece  of  bread.  She  flung  it  to  the  dog,  that  did 
not  even  look  at  it.  The  barnyard  cock  ran  up  and  gulped 
it  down,  upon  which  the  dog  exclaimed,  "  Wretched  glutton, 
have  you  the  heart  to  eat  when  our  master  is  going  to  die  ?" 

"  Let  him  die,"  said  the  cock,  "  if  he  is  fool  enough  to  do 
so.  I  have  a  hundred  wives  ;  I  call  them  all  when  I  find  a 
kernel  of  corn,  and  swallow  it  as  soon  as  they  get  there.  If 
any  of  them  should  take  it  into  her  head  to  complain  I 
would  peck  her  well  for  it,  while  he,  who  has  only  one  wife, 
has  not  wit  enough  to  keep  her  in  order." 

No  sooner  had  the  husband  heard  this  than  he  leaped 
from  the  bier,  seized  a  stick,  and  called  his  wife  into  the 
house,  saying,  "  Come,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  you  want  so 
much  to  know."  He  then  reasoned  with  the  stick,  saying,  as 
each  blow  fell,  "  This  is  it,  wife,  this  is  it."  Such  was  the 
answer  he  gave  her,  and  never  again  did  the  dame  ask  her 
husband  why  he  laughed. 


POUCINET. 


A     FINNISH     TALE. 


I. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  peasant  who  had  three 
sons,  Peter,  Paul,  and  Jack.  Peter  was  big,  fat,  red-faced, 
and  dull-witted  ;  Paul  was  spare,  sallow,  envious,  and  spite- 
ful ;  Jack  was  as  sharp  as  a  steel-trap  and  as  fair  as  a  wom- 
an, but  small — so  small  that  he  could  have  hidden  away  in 
his  father's  great  boots,  whence  he  was  nicknamed  Pouci- 
net. 

The  peasant's  sole  worldly  wealth  was  his  family,  and 
there  was  joy  in  the  household  when  by  chance  they  caught 
a  glimpse  there  of  the  shadow  of  a  penny.  Black  bread  was 
dear,  and  it  was  hard  to  earn  a  living.  As  soon  as  the  three 
children  were  old  enough  to  begin  to  work,  their  father  begged 
them  from  morning  to  night  to  leave  the  hut  where  they  were 


248 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


born   and  go  out   into   the  world   to  seek  their  fortune. 

"In  other  lands,"  said  he, 
"  bread  is  not  always  easily 
earned,  but  there  is  some 
to  be  had  for  the  getting; 
while  here  there  is  none 
at  all,  and  the  best  thing 
that  can  happen  to  you  is 
to  die  of  starvation." 

But,  lo !  a  league  from  the 
peasant's  cabin  the  king  of 
the  country  had  his  palace 
— a  magnificent  building,  all 
of  wood,  with  twenty  carved 
balconies  and  six  glass  win- 
dows. And,  behold,  sud- 
denly, on  a  fine  summer's 
night,  just  over  against  the 
windows  there  sprung  from 
the  ground  a  huge  oak,  with 
such  thick  branches  and  fo- 
liage that  it  darkened  the 
whole  palace.  To  cut  down 
this  giant  was  no  easy  task  ; 
not  an  axe  could  be  found 
that  its  trunk  did  not  blunt, 
and  for  every  branch  or  root 
that  was  cut  ofi"  two  sprout- 
ed forth  in  its  place.  It  was 
in  vain  that  the  king  offered 
three  bags  of  dollars  to  any 
one  who  would  rid  him  of 
Tired  of  the  struggle,  he  was 


this  troublesome  neighbor. 


Poucinet, 


249 


forced  to  resign  himself  to  the  necessity  of  having  the  pal- 
ace lighted  at  midday. 

This  was  not  all.  In  a  country  where  brooks  sprang 
from  the  very  stones,  there  was  no  water  in  the  royal  house- 
hold. In  summer  the  inmates  had  to  wash  their  hands  in 
beer  and  to  shave  with  honey.  This  was  a  shocking  state 
of  affairs,  and  the  prince  had  promised  lands,  money,  and 
the  title  of  marquis  to  any  one  who  should  dig  a  well  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  castle  deep  enough  to  furnish  water  all  the 
year  round.  But  no  one  had  been  able  to  win  the  prize,  for 
the  palace  was  on  high  ground,  with  a  solid  bed  of  granite 
an  inch  below  the  surface. 


Now  the  king  had  revolved  these  two  ideas  in  his  brain 
till  he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  Petty  prince  as  he  was, 
he  was  just  as  self-willed  as  an  Emperor  of  China.  It  is  the 
monopoly  of  royalty.  To  attain  his  ends,  he  distributed 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  his  kingdom  huge 
placards,  stamped  with  the  royal  arms,  offering  to  any  one 
who  should  cut  dow'n  the  tree  and  dig  the  well  nothing  less 


250 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


than  the  hand  of  the  princess  his  daughter  and  half  his  king- 
dom. The  princess  was  as  beautiful  as  the  day ;  the  half 
of  a  kingdom  is  never  to  be  despised ;  and  the  reward  was 
enough  to  tempt  the  most  ambitious.  From  Sweden  and 
Norway,  from  Denmark  and  Russia,  from  Great  Britain  and 
the  Continent,  came  a  host  of  sturdy  workmen,  axe  on  shoul- 
der and  pick  in  hand.  But  it  was  in  vain  for  them  to  cut 
and  to  chop,  to  dig  and  to  hew ;  their  labor  was  all  lost. 
At  every  stroke  the  oak  became  harder  and  the  granite  more 
flinty,  so  that  the  boldest  were  forced  at  last  to  give  up  the 
task  in  despair. 

II. 
One  day,  when  the  people  in  all  the  country  round  were 
talking  of  this  matter  that  turned  every  one's  brains,  the 
three  brothers  asked  themselves  why,  if  their  father  was 
willing,  they  should  not  go  and  try  their  fortune.  It  is  true 
that  they  hardly  hoped  to  succeed,  and  aspired  neither  to 
the  princess  nor  half  of  the  kingdom  ;  but  who  knew  wheth- 
er they  might  not  find  a  place  and  a  good  master  at  the 
court  or  elsewhere;  and  this  was  all  they  needed.  Their 
father  approved  of  the  plan,  and  Peter,  Paul,  and  Jack  set 
out  for  the  king's  palace. 


Poucinet.  251 

On  the  way,  Poucinet  skipped  along  the  road,  scamper- 
ing hither  and  thither  like  a  hound,  noticing  and  studying 
all  he  saw,  and  ferreting  into  every  nook  and  corner.  In- 
sects, weeds,  and  pebbles,  nothing  escaped  his  mouse-like 
eyes.  Every  moment  he  stopped  his  brothers  to  ask  them 
the  reason  for  this  and  that — why  the  bees  burrowed  into 
the  flower-cups,  why  the  swallows  skimmed  the  surface  of 
the  streams,  and  why  the  butterflies  flew  in  zigzag  fashion. 
At  all  these  questions  Peter  laughed,  while  Paul  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  told  him  to  hold  his  tongue. 

On  the  way  they  came  to  a  great  forest  of  firs  that  cov- 
ered a  mountain,  upon  the  summit  of  which  they  heard  the 
sound  of  an  axe  and  the  crash  of  falling  branches. 

"  I  wonder  very  much  why  any  one  is  chopping  wood  on 
the  top  of  the  mountain,"  said  Poucinet. 

"I  should  wonder  very  much  if  you  did  not  wonder," 
answered  Paul,  harshly.  "  Everything  is  wonderful  to  the 
ignorant." 

"  Why,  child,  any  one  would  think  you  had  never  heard 
of  wood-choppers  before,"  said  Peter,  pinching  his  little  broth- 
er's cheek. 

"No  matter,"  returned  Poucinet,  "I  am  curious  to  see 
what  is  going  on  up  there." 

"  Go,  then,"  said  Paul,  "  and  tire  yourself  out ;  it  will  be  a 
lesson  to  you,  you  conceited  imp,  who  are  always  wanting  to 
know  more  than  your  big  brothers." 

Poucinet  troubled  himself  little  about  this  remark.  He 
clambered  up  the  mountain,  listening  for  the  sound,  and 
making  his  way  in  that  direction.  On  reaching  the  top, 
what  do  you  think  he  found  there?  An  enchanted  axe, 
which,  all  alone  by  itself,  was  cutting  down  a  huge  pine-tree. 

"Good -morning.  Madam  Axe,"  said  Poucinet.  "Are 
you  not  tired  of  hacking  away  all  alone  at  that  old  tree  ?" 


252 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


"For  long  years  I  have  been  waiting  for  thee,  my  son," 

answered  the  axe. 

"Well,herelam," 
replied  Poucinet. 

And,  without  be- 
ing at  all  astonished, 
he  look  the  axe,  put 
it  in  his  great  leather 
bag,  and  skipped  mer- 
rily down  the  moun- 
tain. 

"  Did  you  find  any- 
thing up  there  that 
was  so  wonderful?" 
asked  Paul,  scorn- 
fully. 

"  It  was  really  an 
axe  that  we  heard," 
answered  the  boy. 

"  I  told  you  so," 
said  Peter ;  "  you 
have  put  yourself  in 
a  dripping  sweat  for 
nothing.  You  might 
better  have  stayed 
with  us." 

A  little  farther  on 
the  narrow  path 
wound  laboriously 
among  masses  of 
jagged  rocks.  In 
the  distance,  up  the 
cliff,  they  heard  a  dull  sound,  like  iron  striking  the  stone. 


Poucinet, 


253 


"I  wonder  why  any  one  is  breaking  stone  up  there,"  said 
Poucinet. 

"Really,"  exclaimed  Paul,  "here 
is  a  chicken  just  out  of  his  shell, 
who  has  never  heard  a  woodpeck- 
er tapping  a  hollow  tree." 

"That's  so,"  said  Peter,  laugh- 
ing; "it  is  nothing  but  a  wood- 
pecker; stay  with  us,  my  boy." 

"  No  matter,"  returned  Pouci- 
net ;  "I  am  curious  to  see  what 
is  going  on  up  there." 

And,  behold,  he  set  about  clam- 
bering up  the  rocks  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  while  Peter  and  Paul 
laughed  at  him.  On  reaching  the 
top  of  the  precipice,  Wliat  do  you 
think  he  found  there?  An  en- 
chanted pickaxe,  which,  all  alone, 
and  by  itself,  was  hollowing  out  the 
rock  as  if  it  had  been  butter.  At 
every  stroke  it  penetrated  more 
than  a  foot. 

"Good -morning.  Madam  Pick- 
axe," cried  Poucinet.  "  Are  you 
not  tired  of  digging  away  there  all 
alone  at  that  old  rock  ?" 

"  For  long  years  I  have  been 
waiting  for  thee,  my  son,"  answer- 
ed the  pickaxe. 

"Well,  here  I  am,"  rejoined  Pou- 
cinet." 

And,  without  the  least  astonishment,  he  took  the  pickaxe, 


They  stooped  to  drink  from  the  hollow  of  their  hands." 


Ir^oucinet 


255 


separated  the  axe  from  the  handle,  put  the  two  pieces  in 
his  great  leather  bag,  and  skipped  merrily  down  the  rocks. 

"  What  miracle  did  your  lordship  find  up  there  ?"  asked 
Paul,  in  an  insulting  tone. 

"  It  was  a  pickaxe  that  we  heard,"  answered  the  boy,  and 
he  went  on  his  way  without  saying  anything  more. 

A  little  way  farther  on  they  came  to  a  brook.  The  water 
was  cool  and  clear,  and  the  travellers  were  thirsty.  As  they 
stooped  to  drink  from  the  hollow  of  their  hands,  Poucinet 
remarked, 

"  I  wonder  why  there  is  so  much  water  in  such  a  shallow 
valley.     I  should  like  to  know  where  this  brook  comes  from." 

"You  conceited  fool," 


cried  Paul,  "you  want 
to  pry  into  everything. 
Don't  you  know  that 
brooks  spring  from  the 
ground  ?" 

"No  matter,"  said 
Poucinet ;  "  I  am  curi- 
ous to  see  where  this 
water  comes  from." 

And  he  followed 
up  the  course  of  the 
stream  in  spite  of  the 
cries  and  reproaches 
of  his  brothers.  He 
went  on  and  on,  while 
the  stream  became  nar- 
rower and  narrower. 
And  when  he  reached 
the  end,  what  do  you 
think    he    found?     A 


$56  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

walnut-shell,  from  which  the  water  spouted  and  sparkled  in 
the  sun. 

"  Good-morning,  Madam  Spring,"  cried  Poucinet.  "  Are 
you  not  tired  of  staying  all  alone  here  in  a  little  corner, 
spouting  water  ?" 

"  For  long  years  I  have  been  waiting  for  thee,  my  son,'* 
answered  the  walnut-shell. 

"  Well,  here  I  am  !"  said  Poucinet. 

And,  without  the  least  astonishment,  he  took  the  walnut- 
shell,  stopped  it  up  with  moss,  so  that  the  water  could  not 
flow,  put  it  in  his  great  leather  bag,  and  skipped  merrily 
down  the  mountain. 

"  Do  you  know  now  where  the  brook  comes  from  ?"  cried 
Peter,  as  soon  as  he  saw  him. 

"Yes,  brother,  from  a  little  hole,"  answered  Poucinet. 

"  This  boy  is  too  bright,"  said  Paul  j  "  he  will  never  live 
to  grow  up." 

"I  have  seen  what  I  wished  to  see,"  whispered  Poucinet 
to  himself,  "  and  I  know  what  I  wished  to  know ;  I  am  sat- 
isfied."   And  he  rubbed  his  hands. 

III. 

At  last  they  reached  the  king's  palace.  The  oak  was 
larger  and  more  umbrageous  than  ever ;  there  was  no  well 
in  the  courtyard,  and  at  the  palace  gate  still  hung  the  great 
placard  promising  the  hand  of  the  princess  and  one  half  of 
the  kingdom  to  any  one,  noble,  burgher,  or  peasant,  that 
should  accomplish  the  two  tasks  desired  by  his  majesty. 
But,  as  the  king  was  tired  of  so  many  useless  attempts,  which 
had  served  no  purpose  but  to  drive  him  to  despair,  a  small 
placard  had  been  hung  under  the  large  one,  and  on  this 
small  placard  was  written,  in  red  letters, 

"  Know  all  men  by  these  presents,  that,  in  his  inexhaust- 


Poucinet, 


257 


ible  goodness,  his  majesty 
the  king  has  deigned  to 
command  that  any  one  who 
does  not  succeed  in  cutting 
down  the  oak  or  digging 
the  well  shall  have  his  ears 
cut  oflf  on  the  spot,  to  teach 
him  to  know  himself,  which 
is  the  first  lesson  of  wis- 
dom." 

And,  in  order  that  every 
one  might  profit  by  this  pru- 
dent counsel,  thirty  bloody 
ears  were  nailed  around  this 
placard,  belonging  to  those 
who  had  been  lacking  in 
modesty. 

On  reading  the  placard,  Peter  burst  out  laughing,  turned 
up  his  mustaches,  looked  at  his  arms,  with  their  great 
muscles,  like  whip -cords,  and  swinging  his  axe  twice 
around  his  head,  with  one  blow  he  cut  off  one  of  the 
largest  branches  of  the  accursed  tree.  But,  no  sooner  had 
it  fallen  than  two  thicker  and  stronger  boughs  sprouted 
forth  in  its  place ;  whereupon  the  king's  guards  seized 
the  unlucky  wood  -  chopper,  and  cut  off  his  ears  on  the 
spot. 

"  You  awkward  fellow !"  exclaimed  Paul ;  and,  taking  his 
axe,  he  walked  slowly  round  the  tree,  and,  seeing  a  root 
springing  from  the  ground,  he  chopped  it  off  at  one  blow. 
At  the  same  instant  two  enormous  roots  sprang  up  in  its 
place,  from  each  of  which  sprouted  forth  a  vigorous  branch, 
full  of  leaves. 

"  Seize  this  wretch  1"  cried  the  king,  frenzied  with  rage, 
17 


258 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"and,  since  he  did  not  profit  by  his  brother's  example,  shave 
off  his  ears  close  to  his  head.-" 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  But  the  double  family  misfor- 
tune did  not  terrify  Poucinet,  who  resolutely  advanced  to  try 
his  luck. 


"Drive  away  that  dwarf!"  exclaimed  the  king;  "and  if 
he  refuses  to  go,  cut  off  his  ears  directly ;  it  will  teach  him  a 
lesson,  and  save  us  from  witnessing  his  folly." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  your  majesty,  a  king's  word  is  sa- 
cred," said  Poucinet.  "  I  have  the  right  to  try ;  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  cut  off  my  ears  when  I  fail." 


Poucinet  259 

"  Go  on,  then,"  returned  the  king,  sighing ;  "  but  take  care 
that  I  do  not  cut  off  your  nose  into  the  bargain." 

Poucinet  drew  the  enchanted  axe  from  the  bottom  of  his 
great  leather  bag.  It  was  almost  as  tall  as  himself,  and  he 
had  great  difficulty  in  setting  it  upright,  the  handle  on  the 
ground.     "  Cut !  cut !"  he  cried. 

And,  behold,  the  axe  cut,  chopped,  and  split,  hewing  in 
all  directions,  right  and  left,  up  and  down,  trunk,  branches, 
and  roots  ;  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  tree  was  in  pieces,  and 
there  was  so  much  wood  that  the  whole  palace  was  warmed 
with  it  for  more  than  a  year. 

When  the  tree  was  hewn  down  and  chopped  up,  Poucinet 
approached  the  king,  who  was  seated 
with  the  princess  by  his  side,  and  bowed 
gracefully  to  them  both. 

"  Is  your  majesty  satisfied  with  your 
faithful  servant  ?"  asked  he. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  king,  "  but  I  must 
have  my  well,  or  look  out  for  your 
ears !" 

"  If  your  majesty  will  kindly  show 
me  where   you  wish  it  placed,  I  will 
endeavor  once  more  to  please  my  sovereign,"  answered  Pou- 
cinet. 

They  repaired  to  the  great  courtyard  of  the  palace.  The 
king  took  a  raised  seat ;  the  princess  placed  herself  a  little 
below  her  father,  and  began  to  look  with  some  anxiety  on 
the  diminutive  husband  sent  her  by  Heaven.  She  had  not 
dreamed  of  a  spouse  of  this  size.  Without  troubling  him- 
self at  all  about  it,  Poucinet  took  from  his  great  leather 
bag  the  enchanted  pickaxe,  coolly  fitted  the  axe  to  the  han- 
dle, and,  placing  it  on  the  ground  at  the  designated  spot, 
cried, 


26o  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

"Dig!  Digr 

And,  behold,  the  pickaxe  splintered  the  granite,  and  in 
less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  dug  a  well  more  than  a  hun- 
dred feet  deep. 

"Does  your  majesty  think  this  cistern  large  enough?" 
asked  Poucinet,  with  a  bow. 

"Yes, indeed,"  said  the  king;  "but  there  is  no  water. ' 

"  Let  your  majesty  grant  me  a  minute,"  returned  Pouci- 
net, "and  your  just  impatience  shall  be  satisfied." 

Saying  this,  he  took  from  his  great  leather  bag  the  wal- 
nut-shell, wrapped  m  moss,  and  placed  it  in  a  large  basin, 
which,  in  default  of  water,  had  been  filled  with  flowers. 
When  the  walnut-shell  was  firmly  imbedded  in  the  earth,  he 
cried, 

"Spout!  spout!" 

And,  behold,  the  water  spouted  forth  among  the  flowers, 
with  a  gentle  murmur,  forming  a  fountain  that  filled  the  whole 
courtyard  with  its  coolness,  and  fell  again  in  a  cascade  in 
such  abundance  that  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  well  was 
full,  and  it  was  necessary  to  hasten  to  dig  a  channel  to  carry 
off"  this  menacing  wealth  of  water. 

"Sire,"  said  Poucinet,  bending  one  knee  to  the  ground 
before  the  royal  seat, "  does  your  majesty  think  that  I  have 
fulfilled  your  conditions  ?" 

"  Yes,  Marquis  de  Poucinette,"  replied  the  king.  "  I  am 
ready  to  cede  you  half  my  kingdom,  or,  rather,  to  pay  you  the 
value  thereof,  by  means  of  a  tax  which  my  faithful  subjects 
will  be  too  happy  to  raise ;  but  to  give  you  the  princess 
and  to  take  you  for  my  son-in-law  is  another  affair,  which 
does  not  depend  on  me  alone." 

"  What  must  I  do  ?"  asked  Poucinet,  haughtily,  resting  his 
hand  on  his  hip,  and  gazing  at  the  princess. 

**  You  shall  know  to-morrow,"  said  the  king.    "  Meanwhile, 


■  And  behold,  the  water  spouted  forth  among  the  flowers  with  a  gentle 
murmur." 


262  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

you  are  our  guest,  and  the  best  chamber  in  the  palace  shall 
be  made  ready  for  you." 

The  king  having  gone,  Poucinet  hastened  to  find  his 
brothers,  who,  with  their  cropped  ears,  looked  like  rat-terriers. 

"Well,  brothers,"  said  he,  "was  I  wrong  in  keeping  my 
eyes  open,  and  seeking  out  the  reason  of  things?" 

"  You  have  been  lucky,"  answered  Paul,  coldly.  "  Fortune 
is  blind  and  chooses  blindly." 

"  You  have  done  well,  my  boy,"  cried  Peter.  "  With  or 
without  ears,  I  rejoice  in  your  good-fortune,  and  wish  our 
father  were  here  to  see  it." 

Poucinet  carried  his  two  brothers  away  with  him,  and,  be- 
ing in  favor,  the  chamberlain  found  a  post  in  the  palace  the 
same  day  for  the  two  cropped  varlets. 

IV. 

On  retiring  to  his  apartments,  the  king  could  not  sleep.  A 
son-in-law  like  Poucinet  was  not  to  his  liking.  His  majesty 
studied  how  to  avoid  keeping  his  word  without  seeming  to 
break  it.  For  honest  men,  this  task  is  difficult.  Between  his 
honor  and  his  interest  a  knave  never  hesitates,  but  it  is  for 
this  very  reason  that  he  is  a  knave. 

In  his  anxiety,  the  king  summoned  Peter  and  Paul.  The 
two  brothers  alone  could  tell  him  the  birth,  character,  and 
manners  of  Poucinet.  Peter  praised  his  young  brother,  which 
delighted  his  majesty  but  little  ;  Paul  put  him  more  at  his 
ease  by  proving  to  him  that  Poucinet  was  nothing  but  an 
adventurer,  and  that  it  would  be  absurd  for  a  great  prince  to 
feel  himself  pledged  to  a  low-born  wretch. 

"  The  lad  is  so  conceited,"  said  the  spiteful  Paul, "  that  he 
thinks  himself  able  to  face  a  giant.  In  this  district  there  lives 
an  ogre  who  is  the  terrbr  of  the  neighborhood,  and  who  car- 
ries off  the  sheep  and  cattle  for  ten  leagues  around.    Now 


Poucinet 


263 


Poucinet  has  said  again  and  again  that  if  he  liked  he  could 
make  this  giant  his  servant." 

"We  shall  see  if  he  will,"  exclaimed  the  king;  and  he  dis- 
missed the  brothers  and  slept  tranquilly. 

The  next  morning,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  court,  the 
king  sent  for  Poucinet.  He  came,  looking  as  fair  as  a  lily,  as 
fresh  as  a  rose,  and  as  smiling  as  the  morning. 

"My  son-in-law,"  said  the  king,  dwelling  upon  the  words, 
"  a  brave  man  like  you  cannot  marry  a  princess  without  giv- 
ing her  a  household  worthy  of  her.  There  is  in  this  forest 
an  ogre  who,  it  is  said,  is  twenty  feet  high,  and  who  breakfasts 
every  day  on  an  ox.  With  a  laced  coat,  a  cocked  hat,  gold 
epaulets,  and  a  halberd  fifteen  feet  long,  he  would  make  a 
porter  worthy  of  a  king.  My  daughter  begs  you  to  make  her 
this  little  present,  after  which  she  will  see  about  giving  you 
her  hand." 


264 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  It  is  not  easy,"  said  Poucinet,  "  but  to  please  her  high- 
ness I  will  try." 

He  went  to  the  kitchen,  put  in  his  great  leathern  bag  the 
enchanted  axe,  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  piece  of  cheese,  and  a  knife, 
then,  throwing  it  over  his  shoulder,  set  out  for  the  forest. 
Peter  wept,  but  Paul  smiled,  thinking  that,  once  gone, 
he  would  never  be  heard  from  again. 

On  entering  the  wood, 
Poucinet  looked  to  the 
right,  and  the  left,  but 
the  tall  grass  prevented 
him  from  seeing.  Upon 
this,  he  began  to  sing,  at 
the  top  of  his  voice, 
"  Ogre  !  ogre  !  where  are 
you,  ogre?  Show  your- 
self! I  must  have  your 
body  or  your  life  !  Here 
I  am !" 

"  And  here  I  am  !" 
cried  the  giant,  with  a 
frightful  roar  ;  "  wait  for 
me,  and  I  will  make  but 
one  mouthful  of  you." 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry, 
my  friend,"  exclaimed 
Poucinet,  in  a  shrill,  pip- 
ing voice,"  I  have  an  hour 
at  your  disposal." 

The  giant  turned  his 
head  on  all  sides,  astonished  to  see  no  one,  then,  casting 
down  his  eyes,  he  spied  a  lad,  seated  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  holding  a  great  leather  bag  between  his  knees. 


l*ouctnet. 


265 


"  Was  it  you  that  broke  up  my  nap,  you  rascal  ?"  cried  the 
giant,  rolling  his  great  flaming  eyeballs. 

"  Yes,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Poucinet ;  "  I  have  come  to 
take  5'ou  into  my  service." 

"  Ah !"  said  the  giant,  who  was  as  dull  as  he  was  big, 
"that  is  a  good  joke.  I  am  going  to  toss  you  into  the  crow's 
nest  that  I  spy  up  yonder ;  that  will  teach  you  to  prowl 
about  my  forest." 

"  Your  forest !"  returned  Poucinet,  "  it  is  more  mine  than 
yours ;  if  you  say  another  word,  I  will  cut  it  down  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Ah !"  said  the  giant,  "  I  should  like  to  see  you  do  that, 
my  little  fellow." 


266  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

Poucinet  had  placed  the  axe  on  the  ground.  "  Cut !  cut !" 
he  cried,  and,  behold,  the  axe  cut,  chopped,  split,  and  hewed 
to  the  right  and  left,  and  up  and  down,  while  the  branches 
rained  on  the  ogre  like  hail  in  a  storm. 

"  Enough !  enough !"  cried  the  giant,  who  began  to  be 
alarmed  ;  "  do  not  destroy  my  forest.     Who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  the  famous  sorcerer  Poucinet,  and  I  have  only  to 
speak  a  word  for  my  axe  to  chop  off  your  head.  You  don't 
know  yet  whom  you  have  to  deal  with.  Stay  where  you 
are." 

The  giant  stood  still,  greatly  puzzled  at  what  he  had  seen. 
Poucinet,  who  was  hungry,  opened  his  great  leather  bag,  and 
took  out  his  bread  and  cheese. 

"What  is  that  white  thing?"  asked  the  giant,  who  had 
never  seen  any  cheese. 

"It  is  a  stone,"  said  Poucinet,  beginning  to  munch  it 
greedily. 

"  Do  you  eat  stones  ?"  asked  the  giant. 

"  Yes,  they  are  my  usual  diet ;  that  is  the  reason  why  I  do 
not  grow  like  you,  who  eat  beef ;  and  that  too  is  why,  small 
as  I  am,  I  am  ten  times  stronger  than  you.  Show  me  the 
way  to  your  house." 

The  giant  was  conquered.  He  led  the  way  for  Poucinet, 
like  a  huge  dog,  and  brought  him  to  an  immense  building. 

"  Listen  !"  said  Poucinet  to  the  giant ;  "one  of  us  must  be 
the  master  and  the  other  the  servant.  Let  us  make  a  bar- 
gain. If  I  cannot  do  what  you  can,  I  will  be  your  slave ;  if 
you  cannot  do  what  I  can,  you  shall  be  mine." 

"  Agreed  1"  said  the  giant ;  "  I  should  like  to  have  a  little 
fellow  like  you  to  wait  on  me.  It  tires  me  to  think,  and  you 
have  wit  enough  for  both  of  us.  To  begin  with,  here  are  my 
two  buckets ;  go  bring  me  the  water  for  dinner." 

Poucinet  raised   his  head   and   looked  at  the   buckets. 


Enough,  enough,'  cried  the  giant,  who  began  to  be  alarmed,  '  do  not 
destroy  my  forest.' " 


268 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


They  were  two  immense  tuns,  each  ten  feet  high  and  six  feet 
in  diameter.  It  would  have  been  easier  to  drown  in  them 
than  to  stir  them. 

"Ah  I"  said  the  giant,  opening  his  huge  mouth,  "you  are 
already  nonplussed,  my  son.  Do  what  I  do,  and  go  draw 
the  water." 


"  What  is  the  use  of  that  ?"  asked  Poucinet ;  "  I  will  go 
and  fetch  the  spring,  and  turn  that  into  the  dinner-pot ;  it 
will  be  much  easier." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  giant ;  "you  have  already  spoiled  my 


PoucineL  269 

forest ;  do  not  meddle  with  my  spring — to-morrow  I  shall  be 
thirsty.    Make  the  fire  and  I  will  bring  the  water." 

Having  hung  the  dinner-pot  over  the  fire,  the  giant  threw 
in  it  a  whole  ox,  cut  in  pieces,  with  fifty  cabbages  and  a  cart- 
load of  carrots.  He  skimmed  it  with  a  frying-pan,  and 
tasted  it  again  and  again. 

"  Come  to  the  table,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  and  now  let  me 
see  you  do  what  I  do.  For  my  part,  I  feel  hungry  enough  to 
eat  this  whole  ox  and  you  into  the  bargain.  You  will  answer 
for  my  dessert." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Poucinet.  But  before  sitting  down  he 
slipped  under  his  jacket  his  great  leather  bag,  so  that  it  fell 
from  his  throat  to  the  ground. 

The  giant  ate  and  ate,  and  Poucinet  was  not  behind  him, 
only,  instead  of  putting  the  meat,  cabbages,  and  carrots  into 
his  mouth,  he  slipped  them  into  the  bag. 

"Oh!" cried  the  giant, "I  can  eat  no  more;  I  must  undo 
a  button  of  my  waistcoat." 

"  Don't  stop  yet,  you  lazy  fellow,"  said  Poucinet,  shoving 
half  a  cabbage  under  his  chin. 

"  Ah !"  cried  the  giant,  "  I  must  undo  another  button. 
What  an  ostrich's  stomach  you  have !  Any  one  could  see 
that  you  are  in  the  habit  of  eating  stones." 

"  Go  on  !"  said  Poucinet,  slipping  a  huge  piece  of  beef  out 
of  sight. 

"  Ugh !"  exclaimed  the  giant,  "  I  have  undone  my  third 
button — I  feel  stuffed.     And  how  is  it  with  you,  sorcerer .?" 

"  Bah !"  said  Poucinet,  "  nothing  is  easier  than  to  give 
one's  self  a  little  room." 

He  took  his  knife  and  slit  his  jacket  and  bag  the  whole 
length  of  the  stomach.  "  It  ts  your  turn,"  said  he  to  the 
giant,  "  do  what  I  do  !" 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  answered  the  giant.  "  I  would  rather 
be  your  servant ;  I  cannot  digest  steel." 


270 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


No  sooner  said  than 
done.  The  giant  kissed 
his  little  master's  hand 
in  token  of  submission  ; 
then,  lifting  him  on  one 
shoulder  and  a  large  bag 
of  gold  on  the  other,  he 
set  out  for  the  palace. 

V. 

There  was  a  holiday  at 
the  palace,  and  no  one 
was  thinking  any  more  of 
Poucinet  than  if  the  giant 
had  eaten  him  a  week  be- 
fore, when  suddenly  there 
was  heard  a  terrible  up- 
roar, which  shook  the 
building  to  its  founda- 
tion. It  was  the  giant, 
who,  finding  the  great 
gate  too  small  for  him, 
had  knocked  it  down  with  one  blow  of  his  foot.  Every  one 
ran  to  the  window,  the  king  with  the  rest,  and  saw  Poucinet 
tranquilly  seated  on  the  shoulder  of  his  terrible  servant,  on 
a  level  with  the  second-story  balcony,  where  the  court  was 
assembled.  He  stepped  down  among  them,  and,  bending  his 
knee  before  his  betrothed,  said,  "  Princess,  you  wished  for  a 
slave ;  here  are  two  of  them." 

This  gallant  speech,  which  was  inserted  the  next  day  in 
the  court  journal,  embarrasseid  the  king  not  a  little  at  the 
moment  when  it  was  spoken.  Not  knowing  what  answer  to 
make,  he  drew  the  princess  aside  in  the  embrasure  of  a  win- 


Poucinet. 


271 


dow  and  said,  "  My 
daughter,  I  have 
no  excuse  for  re- 
fusing your  hand  to 
this  daring  youth. 
Sacrifice  yourself, 
for  state  reasons ; 
princesses  do  not 
marry  for  their  in- 
cHnation  alone." 

"  I  beg  your  par- 
don," returned  she, 
with  a  courtesy, 
"  princess  or  not, 
every  woman  wish- 
es to  marry  to  suit 
her  taste.  Leave 
me  to  defend  my 
rights  in  my  own 
way. 

"Poucinet,"  she 
added,  aloud,  "you 
are  brave  and  suc- 
cessful, but  that  is 
not  sufficient  to 
please  the  ladies." 

"  I  know  it,"  an- 
swered Poucinet  ; 
"  it  is  necessary 
besides  to  do  their 
will  and  bend  to 
their  caprices." 

"  You  are  a  bright  fellow,"  said  the  princess.    "  Since  you 


272  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

are  so  good  at  guessing,  I  propose  to  you  a  last  ordeal, 
which  should  not  terrify  you,  since  you  will  have  me  for  your 
adversary.  Let  us  try  which  is  the  cleverer,  you  or  I.  My 
hand  shall  be  the  price  of  victory." 


Poucinet  made  a  low  bow.  The  whole  court  descended 
to  the  throne-room,  where,  to  the  general  consternation,  they 
found  the  giant  seated  on  the  ground.  The  ceiling  being  only 
fifteen  feet  high,  the  poor  giant  could  not  stand  upright.  At 
a  sign  from  his  young  master,  he  crept  to  his  side,  proud 
and  happy  to  obey  him.  It  was  strength  in  the  service  of 
intellect. 

"  We  will  begin  with  an  extravaganza,"  said  the  princess. 
"  It  is  said  that  women  do  not  stick  at  untruths ;  let  us  see 
which  can  tell  the  greatest  falsehood.  The  one  who  first 
cries,  'That  is  too  much !'  will  have  lost." 

"  I  am  at  your  highness's  orders,  to  lie  in  jest,  or  to  speak 
the  truth  in  earnest,"  answered  Poucinet. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  the  princess,  "  that  your  farm  is  not  so 


Poucinet,  273 

large  as  ours.    When  two  shepherds  blow  their  horns  at  each 
end  of  the  land,  neither  can  hear  the  other." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  said  Poucinet.  "  My  father's  estate  is 
so  vast  that  a  heifer  that  is  two  months  old  when  she  enters 
the  gate  on  one  side  is  a  full-grown  milch  cow  when  she 
leaves  it  on  the  other." 

"  That  does  not  astonish  me,"  said  the  princess.  "  But  you 
have  not  such  a  huge  bull  as  ours.  Two  men,  seated  on  its 
horns,  cannot  touch  each  other  with  a  twenty-foot  pole." 

"That  is  nothing,"  said  Poucinet.  "The  head  of  my  fa- 
ther's bull  is  so  large  that  a  servant  perched  on  one  horn 
cannot  see  the  man  sitting  on  the  other." 

"  Neither  does  that  surprise  me,"  said  the  princess.  "  But 
you  have  not  so  much  milk  as  we,  for  we  fill  daily  twenty 
tuns  each  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  pile  up  a  moun- 
tain of  cheeses  every  week  as  high  as  the  great  pyramid  of 
Egypt." 

"  What  of  that !"  said  Poucinet.  "  In  my  father's  dairy 
they  make  such  mammoth  cheeses  that  our  mare  one  day  hav- 
ing fallen  into  the  mould,  we  did  not  find  her  until  after  a 
week's  search.  The  poor  animal  had  broken  her  back,  and 
to  use  her  I  was  forced  to  replace  her  spine  by  a  large  fir- 
tree,  which  worked  admirably.  But  one  fine  morning  the  fir 
put  forth  a  branch  in  the  air,  which  grew  so  tall  that,  on 
climbing  it,  I  reached  the  sky.  There  I  saw  a  lady  dressed  in 
white,  spinning  thread  from  the  foam  of  the  sea ;  I  caught 
hold  of  it,  when,  crack !  it  snapped,  and  I  fell  into  a  mouse- 
hole.  There,  whom  should  I  find  but  your  father  and  my 
mother,  each  with  a  distaff;  and  your  father  was  so  awk- 
ward that  my  mother  boxed  his  ears  till  his  mustaches 
shook." 

"That  is  too  much!"  cried  the  princess,  furious;  "my  fa- 
ther would  never  have  submitted  to  such  an  indignity." 
18 


274 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  She  said, '  That  is  too  much,'  "  cried  the  giant.  "  Master, 
the  princess  is  ours." 

VI. 

"Not  yet,"  said  the  princess,  blushing,  "  Poucinet,  I  have 
three  riddles  to  set  you  ;  guess  them,  and  nothing  will  be  left 
me  to  do  but  to  obey  my  father.  Tell  me  what  it  is  that  is 
always  falling  and  is  never  broken  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  Poucinet,  "  my  mother  told  me  that  long  ago  ; 
it  is  a  waterfall." 

"  That  is  so,"  said  the  giant ;  "  who  would  have  guessed 
that?" 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  princess,  in  a  more  tremulous  voice, 
"  what  it  is  that  travels  the  same  road  every  day,  yet  never 
retraces  its  steps  ?" 

"  Oh !"  answered  Poucinet,  "  my  mother  taught  me  that 
long  ago ;  it  is  the  sun." 

"  That  is  right,"  said  the  princess,  pale  with  anger.  "  There 
remains  a  last  question:  what  is  it  that  you  think  and  I  do 
not  ?  what  is  it  that  I  think  and  that  you  do  not  ?  what  is 
it  that  we  both  think?  and  what  is  it  that  neither  of  us 
thinks?" 

Poucinet  cast  down  his  head  and  reflected ;  he  was  em- 
barrassed. 


Poucinet  275 

"  Master,"  said  the  giant,  "  if  the  question  is  too  hard,  don't 
bother  your  brains  about  it.  Make  a  sign,  and  I  will  carry  off 
the  princess  and  settle  the  matter." 

"  Be  silent,  slave,"  answered  Poucinet.  "  Strength  can  do 
little,  my  poor  fellow,  as  you  must  know.  Let  me  try  some 
other  means. 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  after  a  profound  silence,  "  I  scarcely 
dare  guess  your  riddle,  in  which,  nevertheless,  I  discern  my 
happiness.  I  ventured  to  think  that  your  words  would  not 
puzzle  me,  while  you  justly  thought  the  contrary.  You  are 
good  enough  to  think  that  I  am  not  unworthy  to  please  you, 
while  I  have  not  the  temerity  to  think  so.  Lastly,  what  we 
both  think,"  added  he,  smiling,  "  is  that  there  are  greater 
fools  than  we  in  the  world  ;  and  what  neither  of  us  think  is 
that  the  king,  your  august  father,  and  this  poor  giant  have  as 
much — " 

"  Silence  !"  said  the  princess.     "  Here  is  my  hand." 

"What  is  it  that  you  think  about  me?"  asked  the  king. 
"  I  should  be  glad  to  know." 

"My  good  father,"  said  the  princess,  throwing  herself  on 
his  neck,  "  we  think  that  you  are  the  wisest  of  kings  and  the 
best  of  men." 

"  Right !"  returned  the  king.  "  I  know  it.  Meanwhile,  I 
must  do  something  for  my  good  people.  Poucinet,  I  make 
you  a  duke." 

"Long  live  my  master,  Duke  Poucinet !"  cried  the  giant, 
in  such  a  voice  that  it  was  thought  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen 
upon  the  palace.  Luckily,  the  only  harm  done  was  a  gen- 
eral panic  and  a  score  of  broken  window-panes. 

VII. 

To  describe  the  marriage  of  the  princess  and  Poucinet 
would  be  a  useless  task.     All  weddings  are  alike ;  the  onlj; 


276  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

difference  is  in  the  day  after.  Nevertheless,  it  would  be  in- 
excusable on  the  part  of  a  faithful  historian  not  to  tell  how 
much  interest  the  giant's  presence  added  to  the  magnificent 
festival.  For  example,  on  coming  out  of  the  church,  in  the  ex- 
cess of  his  joy  the  faithful  giant  could  think  of  nothing  better 
to  do  than  to  pick  up  the  bridal  carriage  and  put  it  on  his 
head,  and  thus  bring  back  the  pair  in  triumph  to  the  palace. 
This  is  one  of  the  incidents  that  it  is  well  to  note,  as  its  like 
is  not  seen  every  day. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  scene  of  festivity.  Feast- 
ing, speech-making,  epithalamiums,  colored  glass,  fireworks, 
flowers,  and  bouquets — nothing  was  lacking ;  there  was  uni- 
versal rejoicing.  In  the  palace,  every  one  was  laughing,  sing- 
ing, eating,  drinking,  or  talking.  One  man  alone,  lurking  in  a 
corner,  solaced  himself  in  a  way  different  from  the  rest :  this 
was  Paul ;  he  was  glad  his  ears  had  been  cut  off,  since  he 
was  thus  made  deaf  and  unable  to  hear  the  praises  lavished 
on  his  brother ;  and  wished  that  he  were  also  blind,  that  he 
might  not  see  the  happiness  of  the  spouses.  Unable  to  bear 
his  thoughts,  he  at  last  fled  to  the  woods,  where  he  was  de- 
voured by  the  bears.  I  wish  that  all  spiteful  people  might 
share  his  fate. 

Poucinet  was  so  small  that  it  seemed  hard  at  first  for  him 
to  command  respect ;  but  his  affability  and  gentleness  soon 
won  the  love  of  his  wife  and  the  affection  of  all  his  people. 
After  the  death  of  his  father-in-law  he  filled  the  throne  for 
fifty-two  years,  without  any  one  for  a  single  day  desiring  a 
revolution.  Incredible  as  this  fact  may  seem,  it  is  attested  by 
the  official  chronicle  of  his  reign.  He  was  so  shrewd,  says 
the  history,  that  he  always  divined  what  would  serve  and 
please  his  subjects,  and  so  good  that  the  pleasure  of  others 
was  his  chief  joy.  He  lived  only  for  the  good  of  those 
about  him. 


"  The  faithful  giant  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  set  the 
carriage  on  his  head." 


278 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


But  why  praise  his  goodness  ?  Is  it  not  the  virtue  of  men 
of  wit?  Whatever  may  be  said,  there  is  no  such  thing  on 
earth  as  stupid  people  that  are  good.  When  one  is  stupid, 
he  is  not  good,  and  when  he  is  good,  he  is  not  stupid ;  trust 
my  long  experience.  If  all  the  fools  in  the  world  are  not 
wicked,  which  I  suspect,  all  the  wicked  are  fools.  This  is 
the  moral  of  my  story ;  if  any  one  finds  a  better  let  him  go 
and  tell  it  at  Rome. 


THE  PRUDENT  FARMER. 


A    RAGUSAN    TALE. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  at  Ragusa  a  farmer  who 
dabbled  a  little  in  trade.  One  day  he  set  out  for  town  to 
make  a  few  purchases,  taking  with  him  all  his  money.  On 
reaching  a  cross-road  he  stopped  and  asked  an  old  man 
whom  he  chanced  to  find  there  which  route  he  should  take. 

"  I  will  tell  you  for  a  hundred  crowns  and  no  less,"  an- 
swered the  stranger ;  "  every  piece  of  advice  I  give  is  worth 
a  hundred  crowns." 

"  Indeed  !"  thought  the  farmer,  closely  observing  the  foxy- 
looking  old  man.  "  What  kind  of  advice  can  it  be  that  is 
worth  a  hundred  crowns  ?  It  must  be  something  very  rare, 
for  in  general  you  get  plenty  of  advice  for  nothing  ;  it  is  true 
that  it  is  not  worth  much  more  than  you  give  for  it.  Well !" 
said  be  to  the  old  man,  "  speak,  here  is  your  money." 


28o 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


"  Mark  me  well,"  resumed  the  stranger,  "  the  straight  road 
that  you  see  before  you  is  the  road  of  the  present;  the  other 
one,  which  makes  a  curve,  is  the  road  of  the  future.  I  have 
some  more  advice  to  give  you,"  he  added,  "  but  for  that  you 
must  pay  me  another  hundred  crowns." 

The  farmer  reflected  long,  but  finally  thought  to  himself, 
"Since  I  have  bought  the  ^.rst,  I  may  as  well  buy  the  sec- 
ond."    And  he  gave  another  hundred  crowns. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  stranger,  "  when  you  are  on  a  journey, 
and  stop  at  an  inn  where  the  host  is  old  and  the  wine  is 
new,  begone  quickly,  if  you  would  escape  harm.  Give  me 
another  hundred  crowns,"  he  added,  "  I  have  still  something 
more  to  tell  you." 


The  Prudent  Farmer,  281 

The  farmer  reflected,  "  What  can  this  new  piece  of  advice 
be  ?  Bah  \  since  I  have  bought  two,  I  may  as  well  buy  the 
third  one."     And  he  gave  his  last  hundred  crowns. 

"  Heed  me  well !"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  ever  you  fly  in  a 
passion,  keep  half  of  your  wrath  for  the  morrow,  and  do  not 
use  up  all  your  anger  in  one  day." 

The  farmer  returned  home  empty-handed. 

"  What  did  you  buy  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"  Nothing  but  three  pieces  of  advice,  each  of  which  cost 
me  a  hundred  crowns,"  he  answered. 

"That  is  just  like  you,  wasting  your  money,  and  scatter- 
ing it  to  the  winds,  as  usual !" 

"  My  dear  wife,"  said  the  farmer,  gently,  "  I  do  not  regret 
my  money.  Just  listen  to  the  sayings  which  I  bought  with 
it." 

But  his  wife  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  what  she  styled 
idle  words,  and  called  her  husband  a  fool,  who  would  ruin 
his  household  and  leave  his  wife  and  children  to  starve. 

A  short  time  after,  a  merchant  stopped  before  the  farmer's 
door,  with  two  wagons  full  of  goods.  He  had  lost  his  part- 
ner on  the  way,  and  he  offered  the  farmer  fifty  crowns  if  he 
would  take  charge  of  one  of  the  wagons  and  go  with  him  to 
town. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  refuse,"  said  the  farmer's  wife  to  him, 
"  this  time  you  will  earn  something,  at  least." 

They  set  out,  the  merchant  driving  the  first  wagon,  and 
the  farmer  the  second.  The  weather  was  bad  and  the  roads 
heavy,  and  they  travelled  with  great  difficulty.  At  last  they 
reached  the  cross-road,  where  the  merchant  asked  which 
route  they  should  take. 

"  That  one,  which  is  the  road  of  the  future,'*  said  the  farm- 
er; "it  is  longer  but  it  is  surer." 

The  merchant,  however,  insisted  on  taking  the  road  of  the 


282 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


present.  "  I  would  not  go  that  way  for  a  hundred  crowns,** 
said  the  farmer. 

They  separated,  therefore ;  the  farmer,  who  had  taken  the 
longer  road,  nevertheless  arrived  much  before  his  comrade, 
with  his  wagon  in  good  condition.  The  merchant  did  not 
rejoin  him  till  night ;  his  wagon  had  fallen  in  a  morass,  all 
the  load  had  been  damaged,  and  the  master  had  been  hurt 
into  the  bargain. 

At  the  first  inn  they  reached  the  host  was  old,  and  a 
green  branch  announced  that  new  wine  was  sold  there  cheap. 
The  merchant  wished  to  stop  there  for  the  night. 

"  I  would  not  do  it  for  a  hundred  crowns,"  exclaimed  the 
farmer,  and  he  departed  hurriedly,  leaving  his  companion. 
During  the  evening,  a  group  of  young  idlers,  who  had  drank 
too  freely  of  the  new  wine,  quarrelled  for  some  trifling  cause, 
knives  were  drawn,  the  host,  cumbered  with  years,  had  not 
the  strength  to  separate  the  combatants,  a  man  was  killed, 
and,  in  order  to  escape  the  law,  the  corpse  was  hid  in  the 
wagon  of  the  merchant.     The  latter,  who  had  slept  well,  and 


The  Prudent  Farmer.  283 

had  heard  nothing  of  the  affray,  rose  early  to  harness  his 
horses.  Terrified  at  finding  a  dead  body  in  his  wagon,  he 
drove  off  as  fast  as  he  could  in  order  to  escape  a  tedious  law- 
suit. But  the  Austrian  police  were  on  his  track  ;  they  pur- 
sued and  overtook  him,  and  while  waiting  for  the  case  to 
be  brought  to  trial,  threw  the  merchant  in  prison  and  confis- 
cated his  goods. 

On  learning  of  what  had  happened  to  his  comrade,  the 
farmer  determined  at  least  to  save  the  wagon  under  his 
charge,  and  returned  to  his  own  house.  On  nearing  the 
garden,  he  saw  through  the  twilight  a  young  soldier  seated 
in  his  finest  plum-tree,  coolly  munching  his  favorite  fruit. 
The  farmer  raised  his  gun  to  shoot  the  thief,  when  he  reflect- 
ed, "  I  have  paid  a  hundred  crowns  to  learn  that  I  must  not 
spend  all  my  wrath  in  one  day.  Let  us  wait  till  to-morrow ; 
the  thief  will  return." 

He  made  a  circuit  to  enter  the  house  by  another  way. 
As  he  knocked  at  the  door,  the  young  soldier  flung  himself 
in  his  arms,  crying,  "  Father,  I  have  a  furlough,  and  have 
come  to  surprise  and  embrace  you." 

Said  the  farmer  to  his  wife,  "  Now  hear  what  has  hap- 
pened to  me,  and  see  whether  I  paid  too  dear  for  my  three 
pieces  of  advice." 

He  told  them  the  whole  story.  As  the  poor  merchant 
was  hung,  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  the  farmer  found  him- 
self the  heir  of  this  imprudent  man.  Enriched  thereby,  he 
daily  repeated  that  good  advice  is  never  bought  too  dearly, 
and  for  the  first  time  his  wife  and  he  are  of  one  and  the 
same  mind. 


A  FEMALE  SOLOMON. 

A    CROATIAN   TALE. 

There  was  once  upon  a  time  a  poor  man  who  lived  in  a 
hut  alone  with  his  daughter ;  but  this  daughter  was  as  wise 
as  Solomon.  She  went  everywhere  in  search  of  alms,  and 
also  taught  her  father  what  to  say  to  obtain  what  he  needed. 
One  day  he  chanced  to  solicit  aid  from  the  emperor,  who, 
surprised  at  his  manner  of  speaking,  asked  him  who  he  was, 
and  who  had  taught  him  to  express  himself  in  a  way  so  much 
above  his  station. 

"  My  daughter,  sire,"  he  answered. 

"  And  who  taught  your  daughter  ?"  asked  the  emperor. 

"  It  was  God,  as  well  as  our  great  misery,"  was  the  reply. 

"Take  these  thirty  eggs  to  your  daughter,"  said  the  em- 
peror, "  and  tell  her  to  hatch  chickens  from  them  ;  if  she 
does  not,  woe  betide  her  !" 

The  poor  man  went  to  his  hut  in  tears,  and  told  the  story 
to  his  daughter.  She  saw  at  once  that  the  eggs  were  boiled  ; 
but  told  her  father  to  go  to  bed,  and  she  would  see  to  every- 
thing. He  followed  her  advice ;  for  her  part,  she  took  a 
pot,  filled  it  with  water  and  beans  and  hung  it  over  the  fire ; 
then,  next  morning,  when  the  beans  were  boiled,  she  called 


A  Female  Solomon,  285 

her  father  and  told  him  to  take  a  plough  and  oxen  and  plough 
up  the  earth  by  the  side  of  the  road  where  the  emperor  was 
to  pass. 

"  And,"  she  added,  "  when  you  see  the  emperor,  sow  these 
beans,  and  say,  in  a  loud  voice,  *  God  bless  my  boiled  beans 
and  make  them  grow !'  Then,  if  the  emperor  asks  how  it  is 
possible  for  boiled  beans  to  grow,  answer  that  it  is  as  easy 
as  to  hatch  a  chicken  from  a  boiled  egg." 

The  poor  man  did  as  he  was  bid;  he  ploughed  up  the 
ground,  sowed  the  beans,  and  cried,  when  he  saw  the  em- 
peror, "  God  bless  my  boiled  beans  and  make  them  grow !" 
And  when  the  emperor  stopped  and  said,  "  Poor  fool,  how 
is  it  possible  for  boiled  beans  to  grow  ?"  he  answered,  "  Gra- 
cious emperor,  it  is  as  easy  as  to  hatch  a  chicken  from  a 
boiled  egg." 

The  emperor  knew  that  the  daughter  had  prompted  her 
father  to  act  in  this  way.  He  ordered  his  valets  to  bring 
the  poor  man  before  him ;  then  he  gave  him  a  small  pack- 
age of  hemp,  and  said,  "  Take  this,  and  make  of  it  sails,  cord 
age,  and  all  that  is  needed  for  a  vessel,  or  else  I  will  cut 
off  your  head." 

The  poor  man  took  the  package  and  returned  drowned  in 
tears  to  his  daughter.  On  hearing  what  had  happened  she 
told  him  to  go  to  bed,  and  that  she  would  put  matters  right. 
The  next  day  she  took  a  bit  of  wood,  awoke  her  father,  and 
said, 

"Take  this  match  to  the  emperor,  and  let  him  make 
from  it  a  spindle,  a  shuttle,  and  a  loom,  after  which  I  will  do 
what  he  asks." 

The  poor  man  once  more  followed  his  daughter's  advice  ; 
he  went  to  the  emperor  and  repeated  what  he  had  been  bid 
to  say.  The  emperor  was  astonished.  After  a  moment's 
thought  he  took  a  goblet,  and,  giving  it  to  the  poor  man, 


286  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

said,  "Take  this  goblet  to  your  daughter,  and  tell  her  to 
bale  out  the  ocean,  and  make  of  it  an  arable  field." 

The  poor  man  obeyed,  sighing,  and  carried  the  goblet  to 
his  daughter,  repeating  the  emperor's  message.  Again  she 
told  him  to  go  to  bed,  and  leave  the  matter  to  her.  The 
next  day  she  called  him  and  gave  him  a  bunch  of  tow,  saying, 

"Take  this  to  the  emperor  and  let  him  stop  up  all  the 
springs  and  the  mouths  of  all  the  rivers,  after  which  I  will 
bale  out  the  sea." 

When  the  emperor  heard  this,  he  perceived  that  the  maid- 
en was  wiser  than  he.  He  ordered  her  to  be  brought  be- 
fore him,  and  when  they  were  face  to  face,  asked  the  ques- 
tion, "  My  girl,  can  you  tell  me  what  is  heard  farthest  off?" 

"  Thunder  and  falsehood  are  heard  farthest  off,  gracious 
emperor,"  she  answered. 

The  emperor  thereupon  took  his  beard  in  his  hand  and, 
turning  to  the  courtiers,  said,  "  Guess  how  much  my  beard 
is  worth." 

When  they  had  all  estimated  its  value,  some  more  and 
others  less,  the  damsel  maintained  to  their  faces  that  none 
of  them  had  guessed  right,  saying,  "  An  emperor's  beard  is 
worth  three  rains  in  a  summer's  drought." 

The  emperor  was  delighted,  and  said,  "  She  has  guessed 
nearest  of  all."  He  asked  her  if  she  would  be  his  wife,  add- 
ing that  he  would  not  let  her  go  until  she  had  consented. 
The  damsel  bowed  and  said, 

"  Gracious  emperor,  your  will  be  done  !  I  only  ask  that 
you  shall  give  me  a  writing,  in  your  own  hand,  declaring 
that  if  at  any  time  you  grow  tired  of  me  and  wish  to  send 
me  away  from  you  and  out  of  the  palace,  I  shall  have  the 
right  to  carry  away  with  me  what  I  love  best." 

The  emperor  consented,  and  gave  her  a  writing  sealed 
with  the  red  wax  and  great  official  stamp  of  the  empire. 


"An  emperor's  beard  is  worth  three  rains  in  a  summer's  drought." 


288 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


It  chanced  after  a  time  that  the  emperor  grew  tired  of 
his  wife,  as  she  had  foreseen,  and  said  to  her,  "  I  will  live 
with  you  no  longer;  leave  the  palace,  and  go  where  you 
please." 


"Illustrious  emperor,"  answered  the  empress,  "I  will 
obey  you ;  only  permit  me  to  stay  here  one  night  longer, 
and  to-morrow  I  will  go." 


A  Female  Solomon.  289 

The  emperor  having  granted  this  request,  before  supper 
the  empress  mixed  brandy  and  sweet  herbs  with  the  wine, 
and  persuaded  him  to  drink  of  it,  saying, 

"Drink  and  be  merry;  to-morrow  we  part;  and,  believe 
me,  I  shall  be  happier  than  on  my  wedding-day." 

The  emperor  had  scarcely  swallowed  the  beverage  when 
he  fell  fast  asleep.  The  empress  had  him  taken  at  once  to 
a  carriage  which  she  had  ready,  and  carried  him  away  with 
her  to  a  grotto  hewn  in  the  rock.  On  awaking,  he  rubbed 
his  eyes,  and  looking  around  him  at  the  strange  spectacle, 
cried,  "  Where  am  I,  and  who  brought  me  here  ?" 

"  It  was  I,"  answered  the  empress. 

"Why  did  you  do  this  ?  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  you  were 
no  longer  my  wife  ?" 

"  It  is  true  that  you  said  so,"  returned  she,  extending  to 
him  a  paper,  "but  do  you  remember  what  you  promised  me 
in  this  writing  ?  On  quitting  the  palace  I  had  a  right  to  take 
away  with  me  what  I  loved  best  in  it,  and  this  dearest  thing 
is  you." 

At    these  words  the   emperor's    heart  melted ;    he  em- 
braced her,  and  they  returned  to  the  palace  together,  never 
more  to  part. 
19 


DAME  GUDBRAND. 

A   NORWEGIAN   TALE. 

There  was  once  an  old  man  called  Gudbrand  of  the  Hill, 
who  lived  in  a  lonely  cottage  on  a  distant  hillside. 

Now  it  must  be  known  that  this  Gudbrand  had  an  excel- 
lent wife,  which  sometimes  happens.  But  what  happens  far 
more  seldom  was  that  Gudbrand  understood  the  value  of 
such  a  treasure.  The  husband  and  wife  lived  peacefully  to- 
gether, enjoying  their  common  happiness,  and  troubling  them- 
selves neither  about  the  lack  of  money  nor  their  advancing 
years.  Everything  that  Gudbrand  did,  his  wife  declared  to 
be  just  what  she  most  wanted ;  so  that  the  good  man  could 
not  move  or  change  a  single  thing  in  the  house  without  his 
wife's  thanking  him  for  having  foreseen  and  accomplished 
her  wishes. 

They  led  an  easy  life,  moreover ;  the  farm  belonged  to  them, 
and  they  had  a  hundred  dollars  in  their  drawer,  and  two 
good  milch  cows  in  their  stable.  They  lacked  for  nothing, 
and  could  grow  old  without  fearing  want  and  wretchedness, 
or  needing  the  pity  or  assistance  of  their  neighbors.  One 
evening,  as  they  were  talking  together  by  the  fireside  of 
their  work  and  their  plans,  Dame  Gudbrand  said  to  her 
husband, 

"  My  dear,  a  happy  thought  strikes  me.  Why  not  take 
one  of  our  cows  to  town  and  sell  it?    The  other  one  will 


"  He  lived  in  a  lonely  cottage  on  a  distant  hillside,"" 


292 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


give  us  all  the  milk  and 
butter  we  need,  and  what 
is  the  use  of  wearing  our- 
selves out  for  others  ?  We 
have  no  children,  and  mon- 
ey lying  idle  ;  and  it  is  bet- 
ter to  save  our  strength. 
You  will  always  find 
enough  to  do  to  keep  you 
busy  at  home,  mending 
tools  and  furniture,  and  I 
shall  have  more  time  to 
sit  by  you  with  my  spindle 
and  distaff." 

Gudbrand,     as      usual, 

thought  his  wife  was  quite 

right,  and  set  off  early  the  next  morning  for  town,  with  his 

cow.     But  it  was  not  market-day,  and  he  found  no  one  ready 

to  buy  her. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  have  only  to  drive  her 
home  again  ;  I  have  plenty  of  straw  and  fodder  for  her,  and 
the  road  is  no  longer  going  than  coming ;"  and  with  these 
words,  he  tranquilly  turned  his  face  homeward. 

After  a  few  hours'  walk,  just  as  he  was  beginning  to  feel  a 
little  tired,  he  met  a  man  riding  a  horse  to  town — a  superb- 
looking  animal,  all  saddled  and  bridled. 

"The  way  is  long,  and  darkness  is  coming  on  fast,"  thought 
Gudbrand  ;  "  I  shall  not  get  home  to-night  with  my  cow,  and 
my  wife  will  be  worried.  How  proud  she  would  be  to  see 
me  come  prancing  into  the  yard  on  this  horse,  like  a  bailiff!" 
And  with  this  thought,  he  stopped  the  rider,  and  exchanged 
his  cow  for  the  horse. 

Once  in  the  saddle  he  had  some  misgivings.    Gudbrand 


Dame  Gudbrand, 


293 


was  old  and  heavy,  and  the  horse  was  young,  fiery,  and  skit- 
tish. In  half  an  hour  Gudbrand  was  on  foot,  with  the  bridle 
on  his  arm,  trying  hard  to  hold  the  frisky  animal,  that  tossed 
his  head  in  the  wind,  and  reared  and  pranced  at  every  stone 
by  the  wayside.  "It  is  a  bad  bargain,"  thought  Gudbrand  ; 
when,  just  at  that  instant,  he  spied  a  countryman  leading  a 
pig  as  fat  as  butter,  whose  belly 
touched  the  ground. 

"  I  have  often  heard  my  wife 
say,  "  thought  Gudbrand,  "  that  a 
humble  nail  that  is  of  use  is  worth 
more  than  a  sparkling  diamond 
that  is  good  for  nothing."  And 
he  exchanged  his  horse  for  the 

pig- 

It  was  a  happy  thought,  but  the 
good  man  had  counted  without 


294 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


wts^^ 


his  host.  Master  Porker  was  tired,  and  would  not  budge  an- 
other step.  Gudbrand  talked, 
coaxed,  and  swore,  but  all 
in  vain.  He  dragged  the  pig 
by  the  snout,  he  pushed  him 
from  behind,  he  beat  him  on 
all  sides,  and  had  his  trouble 
for  his  pains.  The  creature  lay 
in  the  dust  like  a  ship  stuck  in 
the  mud.     The  farmer  was  in 

despair,  when  a  man  passed  leading  a  goat,  which,  with  its 

udders  full  of  milk, 

pranced,  ran,  and 

curveted  with  an 

agility     charming 

to  behold. 

"  Just    what    I 

want,"  cried  Gud- 


^^^S^ 


--N? 


Dame  Gndbrand. 


295 


brand  ;  "  I  had  rather  have  that  live- 
ly, merry  goat,  than  this  stupid,  vile 
beast."  And  thereupon,  without  giv- 
ing the  matter  a  second  thought,  he 
exchanged  the  pig  for  the  goat. 

Everything  went  smoothly  for  the 
space  of  half  an  hour.  The  long- 
horned  damsel  led  on  Gudbrand,  who 
at  first  laughed  at  her  pranks.  But 
when  one  is  past  twenty,  he  soon  tires 

of  climbing  rocks  ;  and  the  farmer,  chancing  to  meet  a  shep- 
herd watching  his  flock,  was  easily  persuaded  to  exchange 
his  goat  for  a  sheep.  "  I  shall  have  just  as  much  milk," 
thought  he,  "  and  this  animal  at  least  will  be  quiet,  and  will 

not    tire   my   wife 
and  me." 

Gudbrand  had 
judged  rightly  ; 
there  is  nothing 
more  placid  than 
a  sheep.  She 
played  no  pranks, 
and  did  not  try  to  butt  him  ;  but  she  would  not  go  on,  and 
stood  bleating  for  her  sisters.  The  more  Gudbrand  pulled, 
the  more  she  endeavored  to  return  to  the  flock,  and  the 
more  pitifully  she  moaned. 


Kf^-^'^'-^^r^ 


=^^^^? 


296 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  The  whimpering 
fool !"  cried  Gudbrand. 
"  She  is  as  headstrong 
and  as  whining  as  my 
neighbor's  wife.  Who 
will  take  this  bleat- 
ing, crying,  groaning 
beast  off  my  hands? 
I  would  sell  her  at 
any  price." 

"  It  is  a  bargain,"  said  a  peasant  who  was  passing.  "  Take 
this  fine,  fat  goose, 
which  is  far  better 
than  a  sheep  that 
will  moan  itself 
to  death  in  an 
hour." 

"  Agreed,"  said 
Gudbrand  \  "  a 
live  goose  is  worth 
more  than  a  dead 
sheep."     And  he  carried  off  the  goose  with  him. 

This,  however,  was  no  easy  task.     The  bird  was  an  un- 
easy companion.     Frightened  at  being 
off  the  ground,  it   fought   lustily  with 
Ck.'S£S^5)^  wings,  claws,  and  beak,  till  Gudbrand 

yW^^^^^^f        was  tired  of  the  struggle. 

"  Pooh  !"  said  he,  "  a  goose  is  a  hate- 
ful bird  ;  my  wife  never  would  have  one 
in  the  house." 

And,  thereupon,  at  the  first  farm- 
house where  he  stopped,  he  exchanged 
the  goose   for  a  handsome  cock,  with 


Dame  Gudbrand, 


297 


gay  plumage,  and  fine  spurs  and 
comb.  This  time  he  was  satisfied 
with  his  bargain.  The  cock,  it  is 
true,  screamed  from  time  to  time, 
in  a  voice  too  shrill  to  please  sen- 
sitive ears,  but  as  his  legs  were 
tied  together  and  he  was  carried 
head  downward,  he  soon  submit- 
ted to  his  fate.     The  only  trouble 

was  that  it  was  growing  late.  Gudbrand,  who  had  set  out 
before  daybreak,  found  himself  at  evening  hungry  and  pen- 
niless. He  had  still  a  long  way  to  go ;  his  legs  were  falter- 
ing, and  his  stomach  was  crying  for  food.  He  was  equal  to 
the  occasion.  At  the  first  inn,  he  sold  his  cock  for  half  a 
dollar,  and  as  he  had  a  good  appetite,  spent  it  to  the  last 
penny  in  satisfying  his  hunger. 

"  After  all,"  thought  he,  "  of  what  use  would  a  cock  be  to 
me  after  I  had  perished  of  starva- 
tion ?" 

On  nearing  home,  Gudbrand  be- 
gan to  reflect  on  the  strange  way 
in  which  his  journey  had  turned 
out.  Before  entering  his  house,  he 
stopped  at  his  neighbor's.  Grizzled 
Peter. 

"  Well,  Gudbrand,"  said   Peter, 

"  what  luck  did  you  have  in  town  ?" 

"  So,  so,"  said  he ;  "  1  cannot  say  that  I  have  been  very 

lucky,  but  neither  have  I  reason  to  complain."     And  he 

told  him  all  that  had  happened. 

"  Well,  neighbor,"  exclaimed  Peter,  "  you  have  made  a  fine 
mess  of  it !  What  will  your  wife  say  to  you  ?  May  God  pro- 
tect you  I     I  would  not  be  in  vour  shoes  for  ten  dollars." 


293 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"Why,"  said  Gudbrand,  "matters  might  have  turned  out 
much  worse  with  me ;  as  it  is,  I  am  well,  and  at  peace  in 
body  and  soul.  And  whether  I  have  been  wise  or  foolish,  I 
have  such  a  good  wife  that  she  will  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  everything  I  have  done." 

"  I  hear  what  you  say,  neighbor,  and 
marvel  at  it,  but  with  all  due  respect  to 
you,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"Will  you  bet  that  I  am  wrong?"  said 

Gudbrand.     "  I  have  a  hundred  dollars 

in  my  drawer  at  home  ;  I  will  venture 

twenty-five  of  them  ;    will  you  do  the 

me?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Peter. 

The  bargain 
concluded,  the 
two  friends 
entered  Gud- 
brand's  house. 
Peter  stood  at 
the  chamber- 
door  to  listen. 

*'  How      are 

you,      dame  ? " 

said  Gudbrand. 

"Thank  God, 

you  are  home  again  !"  exclaimed  his  wife  ;  "  I  was  beginning 

to  be  so  uneasy  about  you.     How  are  you,  and  what  success 

have  you  had  in  town  ?" 

"  So,  so,"  said  Gudbrand  ;  "  I  could  find  no  one  to  whom 
to  sell  our  cow,  so  I  exchanged  her  for  a  horse." 

"  For  a  horse !"  exclaimed  his  wife ;  "  what  an  excellent 
idea.     1  thank  you  with  all  my  heart.     Now  we  can  go  in 


"Good-evening,  dame,'  said  Gudbrand* 


300  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

our  wagon  to  church,  like  so  many  people  who  look  down 
upon  us,  and  are  no  better  than  we.  If  we  choose  to  keep 
a  horse  and  feed  it,  it  is  nobody's  business ;  we  have  a  per- 
fect right  to  do  so.  Where  is  the  horse  ?  He  must  be  put 
into  the  stable." 

"  I  did  not  bring  him  home,"  said  Gudbrand ;  "  on  the 
way  I  changed  my  mind  and  traded  him  for  a  pig." 

"  Why,"  said  his  wife,  "  that  is  just  what  I  should  have 
done  in  your  place.  A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear.  Now, 
when  the  neighbors  drop  in,  I  shall  have  a  bit  of  bacon  to 
offer  them,  like  other  people.  What  do  we  want  of  a  horse  ? 
The  neighbors  would  say,  '  See  those  proud  folks,  looking 
down  on  us  who  have  to  walk  to  church.'  Come,  we  must 
put  the  pig  in  his  sty." 

"  I  did  not  bring  the  pig,  either,"  said  Gudbrand;  "on  the 
way  I  changed  him  for  a  goat." 

"  Bravo !"  cried  his  wife,  "  what  a  wise  and  prudent  man 
you  are  !  Now  I  think  of  it,  what  should  we  have  done  with 
a  pig?  Folks  would  have  pointed  their  fingers  at  us,  saying, 
*  Look  at  those  people,  who  eat  up  all  they  make  !'  But  with 
my  goat  I  shall  have  milk  and  cheese,  to  say  nothing  of  kids. 
Make  haste  and  put  the  goat  in  the  stable." 

"  But  I  did  not  bring  the  goat,"  said  Gudbrand ;  "  on  the 
way  I  exchanged  it  for  a  sheep." 

"That  is  just  like  you !"  cried  his  wife ;  "you  did  this  for 
my  sake.  I  am  too  old  to  climb  over  hills  and  rocks  after 
a  goat.  But  with  a  sheep  I  shall  have  milk  and  wool  be- 
sides.    Put  the  sheep  in  the  stable." 

"I  did  not  bring  the  sheep,  either,"  said  Gudbrand;  "on 
the  way  I  changed  it  for  a  goose." 

"  Thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  said  the  good  woman ; 
"  what  should  I  have  done  with  a  sheep  ?  I  have  neither 
spinning-wheel  nor  loom ;  weaving  is  hard  work,  and  when 


Dame  Gudbrand, 


301 


the  cloth  is  woven,  it  must  be  cut  out  and  made.  It  is 
much  easier  to  buy  ready- 
made  clothing,  as  we  have 
always  done.  But  a  goose 
— a  fat  goose — is  just  what  I 
wanted;  I  need  down  for  our 
bed  j  and  I  have  always  had 
a  longing  for  once  in  my  life 
to  eat  a  roast  goose.  Come, 
let  us  put  the  goose  in  the 
barn-yard." 

"But  neither  did  I  bring 
the  goose  home,"  said  Gud- 
brand; "  on  the  way  I  changed 
it  for  a  cock." 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  wife, 
"you  are  wiser  than  I.  A 
cock  is  really  useful ;  it  is 
better  than  a  clock,  which 
must  be  wound  every  week. 
A  cock  crows  every  morning 
at  four  o'clock,  and  tells  us 
that  it  is  time  to  praise  God 
and  go  to  work.  After  all, 
of  what  good  would  a  goose 
have  been  to  us.?  I  do  not 
know  how  to  cook  it ;  and  as 
for  our  bed,  thank  God,  there 
is  plenty  of  moss  as  soft  as 
down.  Put  the  cock  in  the 
barn-yard." 

"  I  did  not  bring  the  cock, 
either,"  said  Gudbrand,  "  for  at  nightfall  I  found  myself  as 


302  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

hungry  as  a  hunter,  and  had  to  sell  the  cock  for  half  a  dol- 
lar, without  which  I  should  have  died  of  starvation." 

"  God  be  praised  for  giving  you  this  happy  thought !"  cried 
his  wife.  "My  dear,  you  have  done  everything  just  as  I 
wished.  What  do  we  need  of  a  cock?  We  are  our  own 
masters ;  no  one  has  a  right  to  order  us  about,  and  we  can 
lie  in  bed  as  late  as  we  like.  Now  that  you  are  here,  my 
dear  husband,  I  am  happy.  I  need  but  one  thing,  and  that 
is,  to  know  that  you  are  by  my  side." 

Upon  this  Gudbrand  opened  the  door,  and  called,  "Neigh- 
bor Peter,  what  did  I  tell  you?  Go,  fetch  your  twenty-five 
dollars."  And  he  kissed  his  old  wife  on  both  cheeks  with 
as  much  pleasure  and  more  tenderness  than  if  she  had  been 
twenty  years  old. 


GRIZZLED  PETER. 

A    NORWEGIAN    TALE. 

The  story  does  not  end  here.  Every  medal  has  its  ob- 
verse  side.  The  day  would  not  appear  so  bright  if  it  were 
not  blotted  out  by  the  night.  However  good  and  perfect  all 
women  may  be,  there  are,  nevertheless,  a  few  who  are  not 
always  as  easy-tempered  as  Dame  Gudbrand.  Need  I  say 
that  this  is  the  husband's  fault?  If  he  always  gave  way, 
would  he  ever  be  contradicted?  "Give  way !"  I  hear  some 
whiskered  gentleman  exclaim.  Yes,  of  course ;  else  hear 
with  what  you  are  threatened.  A  Norwegian  experience 
may  be  useful  elsewhere. 

Grizzled  Peter  bore  no  resemblance  to  his  neighbor,  Good- 
man Gudbrand.  He  was  petulant,  imperious,  choleric,  and 
about  as  impatient  as  a  dog  from  whom  a  bone  is  snatched, 
or  a  cat  that  is  seized  by  the  nape  of  the  neck.  He  would 
have  been  unbearable  if  Heaven,  in  its  mercy,  had  not  given 
him  a  wife  worthy  of  him.  This  good  woman  was  head- 
strong, quarrelsome,  rasping,  shrewish,  and  always  ready  to 


304 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


be  silent  when  her  husband  wanted  to  talk,  or  to  rail  when 
he  wished  to  be  at  peace.  It  was  great  good  luck  for  Griz- 
zled Peter  to  have  such  a  treasure.  Without  his  wife,  how 
could  he  have  ever  known  that  patience  is  not  the  merit  of 
fools,  and  that  gentleness  is  the  chief  of  virtues. 

One  night,  in  harvest,  when  he  returned  home  after  fifteen 
hours'  hard  labor,  more  ill-tempered  than  ever,  loudly  asking 
if  supper  was  not  ready,  and  furiously  scolding  at  women 
and  their  laziness, 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Peter,"  said  his  wife.  "  Would  you 
like  to  change  places  ?  To-morrow  I  will  go  harvesting  and 
you  shall  keep  house.  We  will  see  which  has  the  harder 
work,  and  does  it  better." 

"  Done  !"  answered  Peter.  "  You  will  learn,  for  once,  by 
experience,  what  your  poor  husband  suffers.  It  may  teach 
you  to  respect  him  ;  you  need  the  lesson." 

The  next  morning,  at  daybreak,  his  wife  set  out,  her  rake 
over  her  shoulder  and  her  sickle 
by  her  side,  rejoiced  to  see  the 
sun  rise,and  singing  like  the  lark. 
Grizzled  Peter  was  a  little  sur- 
prised to  find  himself  alone  in 
the  house.  He  made  the  best 
of  it,  however,  and  set  to  work  to 
churn  the  butter,  as  if  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  it  all  his  life. 
One  soon  gets  heated  at  a  new 
trade.  Peter's  throat  was  dry, 
and  he  went  down  cellar  to  draw 
some  beer.  He  had  just  taken 
the  spigot  out  of  the  cask,  and 
was  about  to  put  in  the  spout, 
when    he   heard    overhead   the 


Grizzled  Peter. 


305 


grunting  of  the  pig,  who  was  ravaging 
the  kitchen. 

"  My  butter  is  lost !"  cried  Peter.  He 
rushed  up  the  cellar  steps,  four  at  a  time, 
with  the  spigot  in  his  hand.  Such  a 
spectacle  as  met  his  sight !  The  churn 
was  overturned,  the  cream  was  on  the 
ground,  and  the  pig  was  wallowing  in 
floods  of  milk.  A  wiser  man  would 
have  lost  patience.  Peter  flung  himself 
upon  the  animal,  that  ran  away  grunt- 
ing. The  thief  paid  dearly  for  his  crime, 
for  his  master  seized  him  on  the  way, 
and  dealt  him  such  a  blow  on  the  head 
with  the  spigot  that  he  fell  stark  dead  on  the  spot. 
As  he  gazed  at  his  bloody  work,  Peter  bethought  himself 

that  he  had 
not  closed  the 
bunghole,  and 
that  the  beer 
was  still  run- 
ning. He  rush- 
ed down  cel- 
lar. Fortunately,  the  beer  was  running  no  longer;  it  is 
true  that  not  a  drop  was 
left  in  the  cask. 

It  was  necessary  to  begin 
anew  and  churn  the  butter 
if  he  wished  to  have  any  din- 
ner. Peter  went  to  the  dai- 
ry, and  found  cream  enough 
there,  fortunately,  to  repair 
the  accident  of  the  morning. 
20 


3o6 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


He  set  about  churning  with  all  his  might,  when  he  sudden- 
ly remembered,  rather  late  in  the  day,  that  the  cow  was  still 

in  the  stable,  and  had  had  noth- 
ing yet  to  eat  or  drink,  though  the 
sun  was  now  high  in  the  heavens. 
He  started  for  the  stable,  but  ex- 
perience had  made  him  wise. 

"There  is  the  baby  crawling 
on  the  floor,"  he  thought ;  "he 
will  be  sure  to  upset  the  churn  if 
I  leave  it  here." 

He  took  the  churn  on  his  back, 
_  and  went  to  draw  water  for  the 

cow.     The  well  was  deep,  and 

the  bucket  did  not  fill.    Peter  became  impatient,  and  leaned 

over  to  pull  the  rope,  when,  pop !  a  deluge  of  cream  from 

the  churn  poured  over  his  head  and 

into  the  well. 

"Oh,   dear!"   cried   Peter;    "I 

shall  have  no  butter  to-day.   I  must 

think  now  of  the  cow.      It  is  too 

late  to  drive  her  to  pasture,  but 

there  is  a  fine  growth  of  hay  that 

has  not  been  cut  on  the  thatched 

roof.    She  will  lose  nothing  by  stay- 
ing at  home." 

Having  taken  the  cow  from  the 

stable,  it  was  not  difficult  to  get 

her  on  the  roof.    The  house  being 

built  in  a  hollow,  the  thatch  on  one 

side  was  nearly  on  a  level  with  the 

ground,  and,  with   the   help  of  a 

broad  plank,  the  cow  was  easily  installed  in  her  aerial  pasture. 


He  let  thd  rope  carefully  down  the  kitchen  chimney. 


3o8 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


Peter  could  not  stay  on  the  roof  to  watch  the  cow.  He 
had  to  make  soup  and  carry  it  to  the  reapers.  But  being  a 
prudent  man,  and 
not  wishing  to  ex- 
pose his  cow  to 
the  danger  of 
breaking  her 
bones,  he  tied  a 
long  rope  around 
her  neck,  which  he 
carefully  lowered  down  the  kitchen 
chimney ;  this  done,  he  returned  to 
the  kitchen,  and  fastened  the  rope 
around  his  leg.  "Now,"  thought 
he,  "  I  can  be  quite  sure  that  the 
animal  will  be  quiet,  and  that  noth- 
ing will  happen  to  her." 

He  filled  the  pot,  put  into   it   a 
good  piece  of  bacon,  some  vegetables,  and  water,  hung  it 

over  the  fagots,  lighted  a  match, 
and  blew  the  fire,  when,  presto  ! 
the  cow  slipped  from  the  roof 
and  dragged  our  gentleman  up 
the  chimney,  head  downward 
and  heels  in  air.  There  is  no 
knowing  what  would  have  hap- 
pened to  him  had  not  a  strong 
iron  bar  luckily  stopped  him  on 
the  way.  There  they  both  hung 
between  heaven  and  earth,  Pe- 
ter and  the  cow,  he  in  the  chim- 
ney and  she  from  the  roof,  both 
shrieking  and  groaning  frightfully. 


Grizzled  Peter, 


309 


Happily,  the  good  wife  had  no  more  patience  than  her  hus- 
band. After  waiting  three  sec- 
onds for  the  soup  to  be  brought 
her  at  the  usual  time,  she  ran 
home  as  if  the  house  were  on 
fire.  At  the  sight  of  the  cow 
suspended  from  the  roof  she 
drew  her  sickle  and  cut  the 
rope.  It  was  a  great  joy  for 
the  poor  animal  to  find  herself 
once  more  upon  the  ground  she 
loved  ;  and  it  was  no  less  fort- 
unate for  Peter,  who  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  viewing  the 
heavens  feet  in  air,  and  who 
fell  head  foremost  into  the  pot. 
But  luck  seemed  to  be  on  his 
side  that  day  :  the  fire  had  not 
caught,  the  water  was  cold,  and 
the  pot  hung  awry,  so  that  he 
escaped  with  honor  from  this 
trying  ordeal  with  no  other  ac- 
cident than  a  scratched  fore- 
head, grazed  nose,  and  two  cut 
cheeks.  Happily,  nothing  was 
broken  but  the  dinner-pot. 

On  entering  the  kitchen  and 
seeing  her  husband  standing 
abashed  and  bloody,  in  the 
prevailing  disorder,  the  dame 
stuck  her  arms  akimbo,  and 
exclaimed, 

"  Well,  which  of  us  is  it  that  is  always  right  ?      1  have 


"The  dame  stuck  her  arms  akimbo,  and  exclaimed, '  Well,  which  of  us 
is  it  that  is  always  right  ?'  " 


Grizzled  Peter, 


311 


done  my  work  in  the  harvest-field,  and  here  I  am  !  And 
you,  Mr.  Cook,  Mr.  Shepherd,  Mr.  Housekeeper,  where  is  the 
butter,  where  is  the  beer, 
where  is  the  pig,  where 
is  the  cow,  where  is  our 
dinner.?  If  the  baby  is 
not  dead,  it  is  not  your 
fault!  Poor  litde  one, 
if  you  had  not  your 
mother !"  Clasping  the 
baby  in  her  arms,  tears 
came  to  her  relief.  Is 
not  sensibility  the  tri- 
umph of  woman,  and 
are  not  tears  the  triumph  of  sensibility  ? 

Peter  bore  the  storm  sulkily,  but  in  silence.  He  did  well  ; 
resignation  befits  great  minds.  But  a  few  days  after  the 
neighbors  perceived  that  he  had  changed  the  motto  of  his 
house.  Instead  of  two  clasped  hands  bearing  a  heart  encir- 
cled with  a  blue  ribbon  and  surmounted  by  an  eternal  flame, 
he  had  painted  on  the  front  of  the  cottage  a  hive  surrounded 
with  bees,  with  the  following  inscription  : 

"  Bees  sting  sharp, 
But  evil  tongues  sharper." 

It  was  his  only  vengeance  for  this  day  of  defeat. 


THE   TAILOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

A   SENEGAL   TALE. 

There  was,  once  upon  a  time,  a  Senegal  tailor,  who 
had  a  daughter  as  dazzling  as  the  sun.  All  the  youths  in 
the  neighborhood  were  in  love  with  her  beauty,  and  two  of 
them  went  to  her  and  asked  for  her  hand.  The  girl,  like 
a  well -trained  daughter,  made  them  no  answer,  but  called 
her  father,  who  listened  to  them,  and  said : 

"  It  is  late ;  go  home,  and  come  again  to-morrow.  I  will 
tell  you  then  which  of  you  shall  have  my  daughter." 

At  daybreak  the  next  morning  the  young  men  were  at  his 
door. 

"  Here  we  are,"  they  cried ;  "  remember  what  you  prom- 
ised us  yesterday." 

"  Wait,"  said  the  tailor ;  "  I  must  go  out  and  buy  a  piece 
of  cloth ;  when  I  return,  you  will  hear  what  I  expect  you  to 
do." 

He  soon  returned,  and,  calling  his  daughter,  said  to  the 
young  men, 

"  My  sons,  there  are  two  of  you,  and  I  have  but  one 
daughter.  I  cannot  give  her  to  both  of  you,  and  must  re- 
fuse one.  You  see  this  piece  of  cloth ;  I  will  cut  from  it 
two  pairs  of  breeches,  exactly  alike  ;  each  of  you  shall  make 
one  of  them,  and  the  one  that  finishes  first  shall  be  my  son- 
in-law." 


The  Tailors  Daughter,  313 

Each  of  the  rivals  took  his  task,  and  prepared  to  set  to 
work  under  the  tailor's  eyes.  The  latter  said  to  his  daughter, 
"  Here  is  thread ;  you  can  thread  the  needles  for  the  work- 
men." 

The  girl  obeyed ;  she  took  the  spool  and  sat  down  by  the 
youths.  But  the  pretty  witch  was  full  of  cunning ;  her  father 
did  not  know  which  one  she  loved,  neither  did  the  young 
men,  but,  for  her  part,  she  knew  very  well.  The  tailor  went 
out,  the  girl  threaded  the  needles,  and  her  suitors  set  to 
work.  But  to  the  one  she  loved  she  gave  short  needlesful, 
while  she  gave  long  needlesful  to  his  rival.  Both  sewed 
zealously;  at  eleven  o'clock  the  work  was  scarcely  half  done, 
but  at  three  in  the  afternoon  the  young  man  with  the  short 
needlesful  had  finished  his  task,  while  the  other  was  far  be- 
hind. When  the  tailor  returned,  the  victor  carried  him  the 
finished  breeches.     His  rival  was  still  sewing. 

"  My  children,"  said  the  father,  "  I  did  not  wish  to  show 
any  partiality  between  you,  for  which  reason  I  divided  the 
cloth  into  two  equal  parts,  and  gave  each  a  fair  chance. 
Are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  answered  they.  "  We  understood  your  mean- 
ing, and  accepted  the  trial ;  what  is  to  be  will  be !" 

But  the  tailor  had  reasoned  to  himself:  "  He  who  finishes 
his  task  first  will  be  the  better  workman,  and  consequently 
the  one  better  fitted  to  support  his  household."  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  his  daughter  might  outwit  him  by  giving 
the  longer  needlesful  to  the  one  she  did  not  wish  to  win. 
Woman's  wit  decided  the  contest,  and  the  girl  chose  hei 
husband  herself. 


DAME    WEASEL   AND  HER  HUSBAND. 

A    NUBIAN    TALE. 

Dame  Weasel  brought  a  son  into  the  world.  She  called 
her  husband  and  said,  "  Go  get  me  the  kind  of  swaddling- 
clothes  I  want,  and  bring  them  here  to  me." 

The  husband  listened  to  his  wife  with  a  puzzled  air,  and 
asked,  "  But  what  kind  of  swaddling-clothes  do  you  want?" 

"  I  want  the  skin  of  an  elephant,"  snapped  the  weasel. 

The  poor  husband  stood  agape  in  amazement,  wondering 
if  his  wife  had  not  lost  her  wits,  till  the  angry  weasel  flung 
the  baby  in  his  arms,  and  rushed  out,  with  a  toss  of  her 
head. 

She  went  straight  to  the  Earth-worm  and  said,  "  Neighbor, 
I  have  a  field  covered  with  turf;  come  and  help  me  dig  it  up." 

The  Worm  once  busy  at  work.  Dame  Weasel  went  to  the 
Hen,  and  said,  "  Cousin,  my  field  is  full  of  worms,  we  need 
your  help  in  getting  rid  of  them." 

The  Hen  ran  thither  without  waiting  for  another  word, 
hastily  gobbled  up  the  Worm,  and  began  scratching  in  the 
dirt  for  more. 

A  little  farther  on  the  Weasel  met  the  Cat ;  "  My  friend," 
said  she,  "  there  are  some  hens  in  my  field,  and  it  might  be 
to  your  advantage  to  take  a  turn  that  way  while  I  am  gone." 

A  moment  after,  the  Cat  had  devoured  the  Hen. 

While  the  Cat  was  thus  regaling  himself,  the  Weasel  said 
to  the  Dog,  '•  Master,  will  you  allow  the  Cat  to  lord  it  over 


Dame  Weasel  and  her  Husband. 


315 


that  field?"  The  furious  Dog  rushed  on  the  Cat  and 
strangled  him,  determined  that  there  should  be  no  other 
ruler  there  than  himself. 

The  Lion,  passing  that  way,  Dame  Weasel  bowed  to  him 
respectfully.  "  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  do  not  go  near  that  field, 
it  belongs  to  the  Dog ;"  upon  which  the  Lion,  blinded  with 
jealousy,  flung  himself  on  the  Dog  and  tore  him  to  pieces. 

The  Elephant  came  next.  Dame  Weasel  entreated  his 
help  against  the  Lion,  and  begged  him  to  come  into  her  ter- 
ritory as  a  protector.  But  he  little  knew  the  treachery  of 
the  Weasel,  who  had  digged  a  deep  pit  there  and  covered  it 
with  boughs.  The  Elephant  fell  into  the  snare,  and  was 
killed  by  the  fall,  while  the  Lion,  who  was  afraid  of  the  Ele- 
phant, fled  to  the  forest. 

The  Weasel  then  stripped  ofl"  the  Elephant's  skin,  and 
showed  it  to  her  husband,  saying,  "  I  asked  you  in  vain  for 
this  skin ;  with  God's  help  I  have  obtained  it  myself,  and  I 
bring  it  to  you." 

The  husband  of  Dame  Weasel  had  not  suspected  before 
that  his  wife  was  more  cunning  than  all  the  beasts  of  the 
earth,  still  less,  that  she  was  more  cunning  than  he.  He 
was  convinced  of  it  at  last ;  and  hence  came  the  saying, 
"  He  is  as  cunning  as  a  weasel." 


THE  SUN'S  DAUGHTER. 


A    GREEK    FAIRY    TALE. 

There  was  once  a  woman  who  could  not  be  comforted 
because  she  had  no  children.  One  day  she  said  to  the 
Sun, 

"Good  Sun,  if  you  will  but  give  me  a  daughter,  you 
may  take  her  back  when  she  is  twelve  years  old." 

The  Sun  immediately  sent  a  daughter  to  the  good  woman. 


Tk£  Sun's  Daughter. 


317 


She  named  her  Letiko,  and  cherished  her  for  twelve  years 
like  the  apple  of  her  eye.  But  one  day,  when  Letiko  was 
gathering  herbs,  the  Sun  came  to  her  and  said,  "  My  child, 


3i8 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


when  you  go  home,  tell  your  mother  to  remember  what  she 
promised  me." 

Letiko  went  home  and  said  to  the  good  woman,  "  Mother, 
as  I  was  gathering  herbs,  a  handsome  young  prince  came 
and  bade  me  tell  you  to  remember  what  you  had  promised 
him." 

At  this  message,  the  good  woman  trembled  and  turned 
pale ;  then  set  instantly  to  work  to  shut  the  doors  and  win- 
dows, and  stop  up  the  holes  and  crevices,  that  the  Sun  might 
not  make  his  way  into  the  house  and  carry  off  Letiko.  Un- 
happily she  forgot  the  keyhole^  and  the  Sun  seiit  one  of  his 
beams  through  it,  which  seized  Letiko,  and  bore  her  away. 


The  Sun  was  not  a  bad  master,  but  Letiko  could  not  for- 
get, in  his  service,  the  mother  she  had  lost. 

One  day  the  Sun  sent  her  to  the  barn  for  some  hay.    Letiko 


The  Suns  Daughter, 


319 


seated  herself  on  the  sheaves,  and  sighed,  "  As  this  hay  is 
crushed  beneath  my  feet,  so  my  heart  is  crushed  by  the  loss 
of  my  mother."  She  stayed  so  long  in  the  barn  that  the  Sun 
called  to  her,  "  Letiko,  what  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

"  My  shoes  are  so  large  that  I  cannot  walk,"  she  answered. 
Upon  which  the  Sun  made  her  smaller  shoes. 

Another  day  the  Sun  sent  her  for  water.  On  reaching 
the  spring,  Letiko  sighed,  "  As  this  water  moans  as  it  falls, 
so  moans  my  heart  for  my  poor  mother." 

She  stayed  so  long  at 
the  spring  that  the  Sun 
called  to  her,  "Letiko, 
what  are  you  doing 
there?"  She  said,  "My 
skirt  is  so  long  that  I 
cannot  walk."  Upon 
which  the  Sun  cut  off 
the  hem  of  her  skirt. 

Another  time  the  Sun 
sent  her  for  a  pair  of 
sandals.  On  her  way 
back   she  sat  down  by 

the  roadside,  and  sighed,  "As  this  leather  creaks  in  my 
hand,  so  does  my  heart  cry  out  for  my  poor  mother." 

She  remained  seated  there  so  long  that  the  Sun  called  to 
her,  "  Letiko,  what  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

"  My  hat  is  so  large  that  it  falls  over  my  eyes,  and  hinders 
me  from  walking." 

Upon  which  the  Sun  cut  off  the  brim  of  her  hat. 

At  last  the  Sun  saw  that  Letiko  was  sorrowful.  He  sent 
her  once  more  to  the  barn  for  hay ;  but  listened  at  the  door 
and  heard  the  child  cry  for  her  mother.  He  then  called  to 
him  two  foxes,  and  said, 


320 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  Will  you  take  Letiko  back  home  ?" 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  But  if  you  are  hungry  and  thirsty,  what  will  you  eat  and 
drink  on  the  way." 

"  We  will  eat  the  child's  flesh  and  drink  her  blood,"  an- 
swered the  honest  foxes. 


r3.;>m. 


When  the  Sun  heard  this,  he  said  to  himself,  "Good  people, 
you  will  not  do  for  me."  He  thanked  the  foxes,  and  called 
two  hares. 

"  Will  you  take  Letiko  back  to  her  mother  ?" 

"With  pleasure." 

"  But  if  you  are  hungry  and  thirsty,  what  will  you  eat  and 
drink  on  the  way  ?" 


The  Suns  Daughter, 


321 


"We  will  eat  the  grass  of  the  fields  and  drink  the  water 
of  the  springs." 

"  Good,  take  the  child ;  I  trust  her  to  you." 

And,  behold,  the  hares  set  out  with  Letiko ;  but  the  way 
was  long,  and  they  were  hungry. 

"  Dear  Letiko,"  said  the  hares  to  the  young  girl,  "  climb 
this  tree,  and  stay  there  till  we  have  satisfied  our  appetite." 

Letiko  climbed  the  tree,  and  the  hares  ran  to  the  forest. 


21 


322  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

•They  were  hardly  out  of  sight,  when  a  lamia  appeared  be- 
neath the  tree — this  is  what  an  ogress  is  called  in  Greece. 
She  was  a  horrible  old  witch,  with  only  one  eye,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  her  forehead,  and  a  huge  mouth  with  two  great  tusks. 
"  Letiko  1  Letiko  !  come  down  and  see  what  pretty  shoes  I 
have  on  !"  she  cried. 

"  Mine  are  as  pretty  as  yours." 

"Come  down,  I  am  in  haste, my  house  is  not  swept." 

"  Go  and  sweep  it,  and  come  back  when  it  is  done." 

The  lamia  ran  home  and  hurried  back  as  fast  as  she 
could.  "  Letiko  !  Letiko !"  she  cried,  "  come  down  and  see 
what  a  handsome  sash  I  have  on." 

"  My  sash  is  handsomer  than  yours." 

"  If  you  do  not  come  quickly,  I  will  break  down  the  tree 
and  eat  you  up." 

"  Break  it  down  first  and  eat  me  up  afterwards." 

And,  behold !  the  ogress  shook  the  tree,  without  being  able 
to  stir  it.  "  Letiko !  Letiko  !  make  haste,  I  must  go  and  feed 
my  babies." 

"  Go  and  feed  them,  and  come  back  when  you  have  done." 

The  monster  gone,  Letiko  cried,  "  Help  !  my  hares,  help !" 
And  one  of  the  hares  said  to  the  other,  "  Brother,  do  you 
hear?  The  child  is  calling  us."  They  came  running  like 
the  wind.  Letiko  sprang  down  from  the  tree,  and  all  three 
took  to  their  heels. 

The  witch  hurried  back  as  fast  as  she  could,  but  the  bird 
had  flown,  whether  east,  west,  north,  or  south,  she  knew  not 

She  saw  some  men  working  in  the  fields,  and  went  to  them, 
but  they  were  as  deaf  as  posts. 

"  Have  you  seen  any  one  go  by  ?"  asked  she. 

"  We  are  planting  beans,"  they  answered. 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  had  seen  any  one  go  by  ?"  she  cried, 
in  a  furious  tone. 


"Letiko  rushed  in  first,  followed  by  the  hares." 


324 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  replied  the  good  men ;  "  are  you 
deaf?  we  are  planting  beans,  do  you  hear?  beans,  beans, 
beans !" 

When  Letiko  approached  the  house,  the  dog  scented  her, 
and  cried,  ^^  Bow,  wow,  wow  I  here  is  Letiko!"  The  cat, 
that  was  roaming  on  the  roof,  spied  the  child  from  afar,  and 
began  to  call,  ^^ Miaow,  miaow  f  here  is  Letiko  !"  The  poor 
mother  answered,  "  Hush,  cruel  beasts,  would  you  kill  me 
with  grief?" 

The  cock,  stretching  up  his  neck  and  head,  saw  the  child 
in  turn,  and  crew,  "  Cock-a-doodle-doo  !  Cock-a-doodle-doo  !  here 
is  Letiko."  And  the  poor  mother  sobbed,  "  Hush,  cruel  bird, 
would  you  kill  me  with  grief?" 

The  three  friends  reached  the  door,  but  the  ogress  was 
at  their  heels,  and  had  them  just  within  her  grasp.  Letiko 
rushed  in  first,  followed  by  the  hares,  one  after  the  other,  but 
the  last  one  left  the  hair  of  his  tail  in  the  witch's  clutches. 
On  seeing  this,  the  poor  mother  clasped  Letiko  to  her  breast, 
and  cried,  "  Welcome !  my  good  hares,  you  have  brought  my 
daughter  back  in  safety,  and  in  return  I  will  dye  your  tails 
silver."  And  ever  since  that  day  all  the  hares  have  had 
silver  tails. 


THE  LITTLE  MAN, 

There  was  once  a  little  gentleman  who  every  day  grew 
twenty-four  hours  older.  But  when  he  went  to  the  inn  to 
drink  a  glass  of  wine  or  a  schooner  of  beer,  the  inn-keeper 
always  greeted  him  with,  "  Good-morning,  my  little  man  1" 
which  vexed  him  greatly. 

One  morning  he  went  to  the  shoemaker,  to  have  a  pair  of 
high  heels  put  on  his  boots.  No  sooner  had  he  entered  the 
shop  than  the  shoemaker  exclaimed,  "Good-morning,  my 
little  man ;  what  can  I  do  for  you  to-day  ?" 

"Master  Crispin,"  he  answered,  "hasten  to  put  a  pair  of 


326 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


heels  on  my  boots,  and  let  them  be  high  enough  to  make 
people  stop  calling  me  little  man.     I  am  tired  of  it." 

The  shoemaker  set  to  work,  and  when  he  had  finished 
and  been  paid,  "  Good-bye,  my  little  man,"  said  he,  "  if  you 
are  satisfied,  remember  me  another  time." 

The  little  gentleman  was  greatly  vexed  that  the  shoe- 
maker had  no  more  respect  for  his  own  work.  "  It  will  be 
different  with  the  inn-keeper,"  he  thought  \  "he  will  open  his 
eyes,  and  greet  me  by  another  name." 

He  entered  the  inn,  stamping  his  feet,  and  standing  as 
straight  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a  bayonet.  As  soon  as  the 
inn-keeper  saw  him,  he  cried,  "Good-morning,  my  little 
man ;  what  will  you  have,  beer  or  wine  ?" 

Fancy  the  vexation  of  the  little  gentleman  that  his  heels 
had  produced  no  more  effect !  He  hastened  to  the  hatter, 
Xf^  buy  the  tallest  hat  that  could  be  found.  He  had  not 
let  go  the  door-knob  before  the  hatter  greeted  him  with, 


The  Little  Man. 


327 


"Good-morning,  my  little  man,  what  can  I  do  for  you  to- 
day?" 

"I  want  a  hat  tall  enough  to  make  people  stop  calling 
me  little  man ;  it  vexes  me  beyond  measure." 

The  hatter  gave  him  a  hat  that  might  have  served  for 
a  grenadier,  took  his  money,  and  thanked  his  customer. 
"  Good-bye,  my  little  man,  remember  me  next  time."   • 

The  little  man  was  angry  that  the  hatter  paid  so  little  re- 
spect to  his  own  wares.  "  Bah !"  thought  he,  "  it  will  be 
different  at  the  inn."  He  hastened  thither  and  entered  the 
bar-room,  his  hat  on  his  head  like  an  Englishman. 

"  Good-morning,  my  little 
man,"  said  the  inn-keeper, 
"  what  will  you  have,  beer  or 
wine?" 

It  is  needless  to  say  how 
much  the  little  man  was 
vexed.  What  was  the  use  of 
having  such  high  heels  un- 
der his  feet,  and  such  a  tall 
hat  on  his  head  !  And  how 
was  it  that,  in  spite  of  all 
these  dearly  bought  advan- 
tages, every  one  persisted  in 
calling  him  little  man  ? 

Right  and  left,  up  and 
down,  he  asked  all  he  met 
why  he  was  still  called  little  man,  in  spite  of  his  heels  and 
hat,  but  no  one  could  or  would  tell  him.  This  vexed  him 
horribly. 

"How  stupid  I  am  !"  thought  he;  "if  the  people  here 
know  nothing,  I  will  go  to  Rome  and  ask  the  pope,  who 
knows  everything." 


328  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

No  sooner  said  than  done ;  he  packed  his  valise,  and  set 
out  for  Rome. 

On  the  way  he  stopped  at  a  tavern  to  pass  the  night. 
"  Good-day,  my  little  man,"  said  the  host ;  "  where  are  you 
going  at  this  pace  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  Rome  to  see  the  pope,"  answered  the  lit- 
tle gentleman,  ill-humoredly.  "  The  pope  will  tell  me  why, 
in  spite  of  my  high  heels  and  tall  hat,  every  one  takes  the 
liberty  of  calling  me  little  man.     It  makes  me  furious." 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  host.  "I  will  go  along  with  you. 
I,  too,  have  something  to  ask  the  pope.  I  should  like  to 
know  why  every  one  calls  me  the  poor  tavern-keeper.  John, 
you  lazybones,  pack  my  valise,  I  am  going  to  Rome." 

"  Master,  I  am  going  too,"  said  the  hostler.  "  I  should 
like  to  ask  the  pope  why  every  one,  without  knowing  me, 
calls  me  lazybones." 

On  reaching  Rome,  the  three  friends  asked  an  audience 
of  the  pope.  They  were  received  in  a  drawing-room,  in 
which  there  was  a  large  mirror. 

The  pope  listened  to  them  kindly,  and  said  to  the  tavern- 
keeper, 

"  Turn  your  back  to  this  mirror ;  then  look  over  your  left 
shoulder,  and  tell  me  what  you  see  in  the  glass." 

"  I  see,"  cried  the  tavern-keeper,  "  ten  or  twelve  women,  sit- 
ting round  a  table,  drinking  coffee  and  chattering.  Why !  there 
is  my  wife.    I'll  warrant  she  will  not  lose  a  word  of  the  gossip." 

"Well,  my  son,"  said  the  pope,  "as  long  as  your  wife 
spends  her  time  in  this  way,  away  from  home,  you  will  be 
called  a  poor  tavern-keeper,  and  you  will  stay  a  poor  tavern- 
keeper." 

It  was  the  hostler's  turn.  He  placed  himself  in  the  same 
position,  and  looked  over  his  left  shoulder. 

"  Holy  Father !"  he  cried,  "  I  see  dogs  chasing  a  hare. 


The  Little  Man. 


329 


They  think  to  catch  him  ;  ho !  ho !  Dash  and  Rover,  you 
did  not  get  up  early  enough,  the  hare  is  too  fast  for  you !" 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  the  pope,  "  when  you  run  as  fast  as 
this  hare  the  first  time  an  order  is  given  you,  be  sure  that 
no  one  will  call  you  lazybones  any  longer." 

After  the  hostler  came  the  little  gentleman.  He  too 
turned  his  back  to  the  glass,  and  looked  over  his  left  shoul- 
der.    The  pope  asked  him  what  he  saw. 


330 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


"I  see  nothing  but  myself,"  answered  the  little  man. 

"  Do  you  see  yourself  larger  than  you  are  ?'* 

"  No,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  see  myself  just  as  I  am, 
neither  smaller  nor  larger." 

"  In  that  case,  my  son,"  rejoined  the  pope,  "  I  have  but 
one  piece  of  advice  to  give  you  :  to  have  yourself  measured 
until  you  have  grown.  When  you  are  tall,  you  will  no  longer 
be  called  little  man." 

The  little  gentleman  retired  discontented,  it  is  said,  in 
which  he  was  wrong.  But  how  many  there  are  who  are  no 
wiser  than  he !  How  many  there  are  who  wish  to  soar 
above  their  shadow,  who  think  to  add  to  their  stature  by 
borrowed  plumes,  and  who  need  to  go  to  Rome  to  see  them- 
selves just  as  they  are  between  their  hats  and  their  heels  ] 


I'-.A't 


FALSEHOOD  AND  TRUTH, 

AN   OLD   SPANISH    FABLE. 

In  olden  times,  Falsehood  and  Truth  agreed  to  live  to- 
gether like  a  pair  of  friends.  Truth  was  a  good  soul,  sim- 
ple, timid,  and  confiding;  Falsehood  was  plausible,  brill- 
iant, and  dashing.  One  commanded,  and  the  other  always 
obeyed.  As  may  be  supposed,  everything  went  on  smoothly 
in  such  a  delightful  partnership. 

One  day  Falsehood  suggested  to  Truth  that  it  would  be 
well  to  plant  a  tree  that  would  give  them  blossoms  in  spring, 


332 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


shade  in  summer,  and  fruit  in  autumn.     Truth  was  pleased 
with  the  plan,  and  the  tree  was  set  out  directly. 

No  sooner  had  it  begun  to  grow  than  Falsehood  said  to 
Truth :  "  Sister,  let  us  each  choose  a  share  of  the  tree. 
Possessions  held  too  closely  in  common  breed  strife  ;  short 
accounts  make  long  friends.  There  are  the  roots,  for  exam- 
ple ;  it  is  they  that  support  and  nourish  it ;  they  are  shel- 


tered from  wind  and  weather ;  why  do  you  not  take  them  ? 
To  oblige  you,  I  will  content  myself,  for  my  part,  with  the 
branches,  that  grow  in  the  open  air,  at  the  mercy  of  birds, 
beasts,  and  men,  wind,  heat,  and  frost.  There  is  nothing 
that  we  would  not  do  for  those  we  love." 

Truth,  abashed  by  such  goodness,  thanked  her  comrade, 
and  burrowed  under  ground,  to  the  great  joy  of  Falsehood, 


Falsehood  and  Truth,  333 

who  found  himself  a4one  among  mankind,  and  able  to  reign 
at  his  ease. 

The  tree  shot  up  fast ;  its  great  boughs  spread  shade  and 
coolness  far  and  wide,  and  it  soon  put  forth  blossoms  fairer 
than  the  rose.  Men  and  women  hastened  from  all  sides  to 
admire  the  marvel.  Perched  upon  the  topmost  branch 
Falsehood  harangued  them,  and  soon  charmed  them  with  his 
honeyed  words.  He  taught  them  that  society  is  nothing  but 
falsehood,  and  that  men  would  be  ready  to  tear  each  other  to 
pieces  if  they  always  spoke  the  truth.  "  There  are  three  ways 
to  succeed  here  below,"  added  he :  "  by  simple  falsehood,  as 
when  the  vassal  says  to  his  lord,  *  I  respect  and  love  you ;' 
by  double  falsehood,  as  when  he  exclaims,  '  May  the  thun- 
derbolts of  Heaven  fall  on  me  if  I  am  not  your  most  faithful 
servant ;'  and  by  triple  falsehood,  as  when  he  repeats, '  My 
goods,  my  arm,  and  my  life  all  are  my  lord's;'  and  then  deserts 
his  master  at  the  moment  of  danger."  The  good  apostle  gave 
these  lessons  in  so  airy  a  manner,  and  illustrated  them  by 
such  fine  examples,  that  all  who  heard  him  were  intoxicated 
with  his  words ;  they  jeered  at  those  who  did  not  applaud, 
and  even  began  to  doubt  themselves.  For  a  hundred  leagues 
around,  nothing  was  talked  of  but  Falsehood  and  his  wisdom ; 
it  was  proposed  to  make  him  king.  As  to  good  Truth,  who 
lay  crouching  in  her  den,  no  one  gave  her  a  thought;  she 
might  die  forgotten. 

Abandoned  as  she  was  by  all,  she  was  forced  to  live  on 
whatever  she  could  find  under  ground ;  and  while  False- 
hood was  enthroned  among  verdure  and  flowers,  the  poor 
mole  gnawed  the  bitter  roots  of  the  tree  she  had  planted. 
She  gnawed  them  so  deep  that  one  day,  when  Falsehood, 
more  eloquent  than  usual,  was  addressing  an  innumerable 
multitude,  the  wind  rose  slightly,  and  suddenly  blew  down 
the  tree,  that  had  no  longer  any  roots  to  support  it.     The 


334 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


branches  in  their  fall  crushed  all  who  were  beneath  them. 
Falsehood  escaped  with  an  injured  eye  and  broken  leg, 
which  left  him  lame  and  squinting ;  which  was  coming  off 
cheaply. 

Truth,  suddenly  restored  to  light,  rose  from  the  ground  with 
dishevelled  hair  and  a  stern  countenance,  and  began  harshly 
to  rebuke  those  about  her  for  their  weakness  and  credulity. 


No  sooner  had  he  heard  her  voice  than  Falsehood  cried, 
"  Behold  the  author  of  all  our  ills  ;  the  one  who  has  de- 
stroyed us.  Death  to  her !"  Upon  which  the  people,  armed 
with  sticks  and  stones,  gave  chase  to  the  unhappy  woman, 
and  thrust  her  again  into  the  hole,  more  dead  than  alive. 


Falsehood  and  Truth, 


335 


Having  done  this,  they  quickly  sealed  it  with  a  large  stone, 
that  Truth  might  never  more  arise  from  her  tomb. 


However,  she  had  still  a  few  friends  ;  for  during  the  night 
an  unknown  hand  traced  the  following  epitaph  upon  the 
stone : 


336  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

*'  Aqui  yaze  la  Verdad, 
A  quein  el  mundo  cruel 
Mato  sin  enfermedad 
Porque  no  reinase  en  el 
Sino  Mentira  y  Maldad." 

Or, "  Here  lies  Truth,  slain  not  by  disease,  but  by  the  cruel 
world,  that  nought  might  reign  in  it  but  Falsehood  and  Dis- 
loyalty." 

It  is  Falsehood's  smallest  fault  not  to  suffer  contradiction. 
The  friend  of  Truth  was  hunted  down,  and  hung  as  soon  as 


:M|«#^„.^.>. 


found.  Dead  men  only  never  grumble.  To  be  better  as- 
sured of  his  victory,  Falsehood  built  him  a  palace  over  the 
sepulchre  of  Truth.  But  it  is  said  that  sometimes  she  turns 
in  her  grave,  and  thereupon  the  palace  crumbles  like  a  house 


Falsehood  and  Truth. 


337 


of  cards,  and  buries  beneath  its  ruins  all  who  dwell  therein, 
both  innocent  and  guilty. 


'^\'\ 


•2.         ''L- 


But  men  have  something  else  to  do  than  mourn  their 
dead  ;  they  fall  heirs  to  their  inheritance.  The  people,  those 
eternal  dupes,  each  time  rebuild  the  palace  with  greater 
splendor  than  before,  and  Falsehood,  lame  and  squinting, 
reigns  therein  to  this  very  day. 


THE  MYSTIC  GARDEN. 

A  HEBREW   APOLOGUE. 

"  Remember  the  days  of  old,  consider  the  years  of  many 
generations :  ask  thy  father,  and  he  will  shew  thee ;  thy 
elders,  and  they  will  tell  thee." 

If  ever  a  people  remained  faithful  to  tradition  it  has  been 
the  Jewish  people,  to  whom  these  words  were  addressed.  It 
has  preserved  everything,  history  and  legends,  and,  to  be 
just,  let  us  add  that,  the  Bible  excepted,  it  has  jumbled  them 
all  up  together.  For  this  reason  lovers  of  fairy  lore  have  a 
weakness  for  this  unhappy  race,  that  has  so  long  been  the 
sport  of  fate  and  the  scorn  of  nations.  It  has  hoarded  up 
for  us  the  traditions  of  the  East,  and  has  borne  and  dissem- 
inated them  through  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  Its  spirit 
lives  in  us  more  than  we  are  aware. 


The  Mystic  Garden,  339 

We  are  too  ignorant  how  great  has  been  the  influence  of 
the  persecuted  rabbis.  Their  books  have  been  almost  as 
much  despised  as  themselves ;  yet  they  have  been  drawn 
upon  largely.  When  we  read  an  ingenious  moral  tale  or  a 
transparent  apologue,  we  trouble  ourselves  little  about  the 
source  from  which  it  came  ;  it  is  a  kind  of  ingratitude  which 
we  commit  every  day,  and  for  which  we  suffer  little  remorse. 

Here  is  a  story  bequeathed  us  by  the  rabbis,  which,  though 
very  old,  deserves  to  be  held  in  everlasting  remembrance. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  king  who  was  exceeding 
mighty,  sage,  and  just.  This  monarch  caused  a  law  to  be  pro- 
claimed throughout  his  dominions,  decreeing  that  no  rewards, 
offices,  or  honors  should  be  bestowed  on  any  who  had  not 
merited  them  by  services  rendered  their  king  or  country, 
and  that  each  should  be  rewarded  according  to  his  deserts. 

In  the  course  of  time  there  were  born  at  the  court  three 
children,  all  of  royal  blood.  All  three  grew  up  richly  en- 
dowed with  virtue  and  talent — handsome,  well-made,  amia- 
ble, and  beloved  and  esteemed  by  every  one.  The  king, 
who  was  very  fond  of  them,  and  was  anxious  to  give  them  a 
station  in  accordance  with  their  merit,  called  them  to  him 
one  day,  and  said,  "  My  children,  I  wish  to  do  you  the  great- 
est possible  honor  and  good.  I  would  like  to  set  you  above 
all  others  in  my  palace,  for  you  have  found  favor  in  my  sight, 
and  I  believe  you  capable  of  the  highest  deeds  of  virtue. 
But  all  my  people  know,  and  you  know  with  them,  that  there 
i?  a  law  in  my  kingdom  which  I  cannot  break.  I  can  confer 
honors  and  office  on  no  one,  save  as  a  reward  for  services 
that  he  has  done.  You  cannot  attain  the  high  rank  for 
which  I  destine  you,  therefore,  by  remaining  at  court.  I 
advise  you  to  go  out  into  the  world,  scour  the  country  far  and 
wide,  and  try  to  win,  by  your  exploits,  the  prize  promised  you 
by  the  law,  and  which  I  shall  delight  to  bestow  upon  you.     At 


340 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


i 


my  summons,  you  will  return  to  court ;  until  then,  mark  well 
what  you  do ;  for,  according  to  your  merit,  such  will  be  your 
reward." 

The  three  young  men  were  very  loath  to  quit  the  court, 
but  the  king  had  ordered  it,  and  they  were  forced  to  obey. 
All  three,  therefore,  took  leave  of  their  sovereign,  and  em- 
barked in  fine  weather,  leaving  it  to  chance  to  shape  their 
course. 

They  had  sailed  a  long  way,  when  they  spied  an  island 
which  looked  fertile  and  smiling  from  the  sea.  They  land- 
ed, and  found  in  the  middle  of  the  isle  a  fair  garden  full 
of  fruit.     As  they  drew  near  it,  three  guards  came  out  to 


Three  guards  came  out  to  meet  them. 


-.^-i-x 


342 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


meet  them,  who  permitted  them  to  enter,  but  each  gave 
them  a  word  of  advice. 

The  first  guard  told  them  that  they  must  not  expect  to 
stay  forever  in  this  garden.  The  time  would  come  when 
they  would  be  forced  to  depart.  None  of  those  who  had 
lived  there  before  them  had  ever  been  allowed  to  remain. 
Such  was  the  rule ;  some  came  and  others  went. 

The. second  guard  bade  them  engrave  it  upon  their  mem- 
ory that  they  must  quit  this  garden  precisely  as  they  had 
entered  it.  They  were  free  to  enjoy  all  that  they  found 
there,  and  no  one  would  hinder  them  ;  but,  on  leaving, 
they  were  expressly  forbidden  to  carry  anything  away  with 
them. 

The  third  guard  advised  them  to  be  moderate  in  their 
enjoyments  and  pleasures,  and  to  do  nothing  but  what  was 


The  Mystic  Garden.  343 

virtuous  and  upright,  adding,  that  this  conduct  would  do 
much  towards  prolonging  their  lives. 

Having  heard  these  wise  counsels,  the  youths  entered  the 
garden,  which  was  even  more  beautiful  and  enchanting  than 
it  had  seemed  from  outside.  They  found  an  abundance  of 
trees  laden  with  rich  fruit,  and  plants  and  flowers  as  pleasing 
to  the  smell  as  to  the  sight.  Nightingales  were  warbling  in 
the  branches  of  the  huge  oaks,  myriads  of  birds  delighted 
the  ear  with  their  melodious  songs,  and  running  streams 
diffused  freshness  and  life  everywhere. 

It  is  needless  to  tell  how  great  was  the  joy  of  the  three 
comrades.  They  ate  of  the  delicious  fruits,  drank  of  the 
sweet  waters,  and  reposed  under  the  leafy  shade  of  the  great 
trees,  listening  to  the  nightingales,  while  the  gentle  breeze 
wafted  through  the  foliage  the  sweet  odor  of  the  flowers. 

After  a  little  while  they  parted,  and  each  went  his  way  to 
the  part  of  the  garden  that  pleased  him  best. 

Fascinated  by  the  beauty  of  the  fruit  and  the  coolness  of 
the  waters,  the  first  of  the  three  youths  thought  only  of  enjoy- 
ing what  lay  nearest  at  hand.  To  eat,  drink,  sleep,  lead  a 
merry  life,  and  cast  away  all  care,  such  was  his  sole  idea. 
He  wholly  forgot  the  counsels  of  the  third  guard. 

The  second  of  the  young  men  was  charmed  neither  by  the 
fruit  nor  the  flowers.  He  had  found  gold,  silver,  and  pre- 
cious stones  in  abundance  in  a  corner  of  the  garden.  Daz- 
zled by  these  treasures,  he  thought  only  of  amassing  them, 
and  made  his  clothes  into  bags  to  hold  all  these  riches. 
Absorbed  in  this  idea,  he  neither  ate,  drank,  nor  slept.  As 
to  using  the  garden  and  its  pleasures,  he  did  not  dream  of  it 
for  a  moment,  forgetting  what  the  second  guard  had  told 
him,  that  whatever  was  found  there  must  be  enjoyed,  and  not 
hoarded,  for  nothing  could  be  carried  away  with  him. 

The  third  youth  had  engraved  upon  his  memory  all  that 


'It  is  needless  to  tell  how  great  was  the  joy  of  the  three  comrades." 


The  Mystic  Garden, 


345 


%^.r:.    . 


the  three  guards  had 
told  him,  and  did  not 
follow  his  compan- 
ions' example.  The 
course  that  they  had 
pursued  seemed  to 
him  dangerous  and 
wrong ;  it  was  not 
what  they  had  been 
taught  to  do.  He 
made  use  of  the  gar- 
den and  its  pleasures, 
but  only  so  far  as  was 
needful  to  sustain 
life.  He  passed  his 
time  in  studying  this 
abode,  and  what  it  contained.  On  beholding  the  fruits,  flow- 
ers, and  animals,  with  their  prodigious  diversity,  and  seeking 


346 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


the  property  of  each  plant,  he  marvelled  at  the  perpetual 
miracle  of  nature ;  and  on  following  the  watercourses,  so 
well  distributed  that,  from  step  to  step,  and  from  ridge  to 
ridge,  there  was  not  a  blade  of  grass  that  was  not  watered, 
he  never  tired  of  contemplating  the  incredible  order  that  set 
everything  in  its  place. 

What  added  to  his  astonishment  was  that,  in  this  well-reg- 
ulated garden,  no  gardener  was  to  be  seen.  But  reflection 
soon  told  him  that  order  so  perfect  could  not  exist  through 
accident,  and  that  there  must  surely  be  a  most  wise  gardener 
—  an  invisible  master — who  ruled  this  beautiful  domain. 
Each  day  heightened  his  admiration  ;  each  day  increased 
his  desire  to  know  the  master  of  the  garden  ;  he  sought  him 
everywhere,  and,  without  ever  seeing  him,  he  loved  him  for 
all  the  pleasure  he  had  enjoyed  in  the  sight  and  study  of 
so  many  marvels. 

While  each  of  the  young  men  was  enjoying  himself  in  his 
own  fashion,  a  slave  of  the  king  brought  them  a  summons 
to  return  at  once  to  court  and  give  an  account  of  their  life. 

They  set  out  for  the  gate  by 
which  they  had  entered,  but 
scarcely  had  he  passed  it, 
when  the  first  of  the  three — 
he  who  had  thought  only  of 
his  pleasure — grew  faint  from 
the  change  of  air,  and,  no 
longer  having  the  fruit  of  the 
garden  to  sustain  him,  his 
body  puffed  up,  his  strength 
failed  him,  and  he  fell  on  the 
ground  and  expired. 

The  second  one  dragged  him- 
self slowly  along,  laden  like 


•'V? 


The  Mystic  Garden. 


347 


a  pack-mule.  The  hope  of  one  day  enjoying  his  treasure 
made  him  forget  his  fatigue;  but,  on  reaching  the  gate  of 
the  garden,  the  guards,  astonished  at  seeing  him  move  so 
heavily,  laid  hold  of 
him,  and  stripped 
him  in  an  instant 
of  all  his  spoil. 
The  unhappy  youth 
groaned  and  wept; 
all  his  pains  and  la- 
bor had  led  to  noth- 
ing but  wretched- 
ness and  despair. 

The  third  youth 
had  lelt  a  lively  joy 
on  hearing  the  voice 
of  the  messenger 
who  summoned  him 
by  order  of  the  king. 
The  master  whom 
he  had  been  unable  to  see,  he  should  doubtless  find  on  quit- 
ting the  garden,  and  could  express  to  him  all  his  love  and 
gratitude.  Moreover,  he  had  committed  no  offence;  far 
from  it;  he  had  done  everything  to  recognize  his  will  and 
to  obey  him.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  heart  full  of  hope, 
and  without  a  thought  of  what  he  left  behind  him,  that  he 
ran  to  the  garden  gate.  He  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
guards,  who  rejoiced  to  see  the  alacrity  with  which  he  obeyed 
the  king's  commands. 

On  drawing  near  the  court,  the  youth  who  had  been  stripped 
of  his  booty  was  so  weary  and  miserable  that  he  could  scarce- 
ly keep  his  feet.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  insisted  that  he  was 
of  royal  blood ;  no  one  believed  him ;  still  more,  the  slaves 


348 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


..  r-1,^ 


n 


if* 


of  the  palace,  indignant  that  such  a  beggar  should  claim 
relationship  with  the  king,  turned  him  from  the  palace  door, 
and  threw  him  into  a  narrow  dungeon,  where  he  would  have 
full  time  to  expiate  his  faults  and  bewail  his  folly. 

The  third  youth  was  as  royally  welcomed  as  his  com- 
rade was  harshly  treated.  All  the  grandees  of  the  court 
went  out  to  meet  him,  embraced  him,  and  accompanied 
him  to  the  king's  presence  to  do  him  honor.  The  king  was 
greatly  rejoiced  to  see  this  young  man,  so  alert  and  ready  to 
do  his  bidding,  and  although  nothing  was  hidden  from  his 


The  Mystic  Garden,  349 

knowledge,  he  asked  the  new-comer  what  he  had  done  since 
he  saw  him  last.  The  youth  told  the  story  of  all  the  great 
and  beautiful  things  he  had  seen  in  the  delicious  place 
where  he  had  been,  and  added :  "  I  am  quite  sure  that  this 
garden  has  a  master  of  exceeding  great  wisdom ;  this  mas- 
ter cannot  be  far  off,  though  he  takes  delight  in  hiding  him- 
self from  our  sight ;  and  it  is  my  chief  desire  to  express  to 
him  the  love  and  gratitude  I  have  felt  at  the  sight  of  his 
works." 

"Since  your  time  has  been  so  well  spent,  I  will  grant 
your  wish,"  answered  the  king.  "  I  am  the  master  of  yon- 
der garden  ;  I  rule  it  from  here  through  the  ministers  of  my 
will ;  and  there  is  not  a  creature  so  small,  or  a  blade  of 
grass  so  humble,  that  it  has  not  a  servant  to  cherish  it  and 
watch  its  growth." 

On  hearing  these  words,  and  comprehending  this  mystery, 
the  happy  youth  felt  his  love  for  his  master  glow  still  bright- 
er in  his  breast ;  he  tasted  infinite  joy  in  the  knowledge  of 
his  power,  and  dwelt  forevermore  side  by  side  with  him  at 
the  court,  raised  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  honor. 

The  moral  of  this  story,  continue  the  rabbis,  is  easily  dis- 
cerned. The  king  is  the  supreme  Creator  and  Sovereign 
Ruler  of  all  things.  The  garden  is  the  world ;  the  three 
youths  represent  the  three  kinds  of  men  that  are  here  on 
earth ;  one  seeks  nothing  but  pleasure ;  the  second  pursues 
fortune,  and  the  third  loves  goodness  alone,  which  is  the 
true  aim  of  man.  That  the  three  young  men  are  of  royal 
blood  signifies  that  they  belong  to  Israel,  the  chosen  people 
of  God.  As  to  the  counsels  of  the  three  guards,  we  know 
that  they  are  true.  The  first  is  God's  own  words  to  Adam, 
"  Dust  thou  art,  and  to  dust  shalt  thou  return."  The  sec- 
ond is  the  saying  of  Job,  "  Naked  came  I  out  of  my  mother's 
womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither."     Lastly,  the  third 


350  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

is  the  great  speech  of  Moses,  our  master  in  Israel,  appoint- 
ed by  God :  "  I  have  set  before  thee  this  day  life  and  good, 
and  death  and  evil.  Therefore  choose  life,  that  both  thou 
and  thy  seed  may  Hve." 

Does  not  this  signify  that  life  consists  in  doing  good,  and 
death  in  doing  evil  ? 

He  who  weighs  well  these  three  sayings,  and  always  bears 
them  in  mind,  cannot  mistake  the  true  path,  but  will  find  the 
road  which,  on  quitting  life,  leads  to  everlasting  repose. 
Keep  this  example,  therefore,  before  thine  eyes  like  a  mirror. 
And  now,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  may  God  grant  thee  grace  to 
serve  him,  and  may'st  thou  in  this  manner  obtain  peace  in 
this  life,  and  glory  in  the  life  to  come.     Amen. 


THE  EVE 

OF 

ST,  MARK. 

AN     ESTHONIAN 
FAIRY  TALE. 


Near  Revel,  in  Es- 
thonia,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  there  once  lived  an  old  sorcerer, 
who  had  thoroughly  mastered  all  the  secrets  of  the  black 
art.  He  knew  everything,  saw  everything,  understood  every- 
thing, and  could  do  everything.  To  turn  dust  into  gold, 
or  gold  into  dust,  to  assemble  the  winds,  summon  or  quell 
the  tempest,  hush  the  thunders,  or  call  the  dead  from  their 
graves — all  this  was  to  him  but  child's  play.  He  held  earth, 
sea,  and  air  at  his  bidding.  It  was  a  common  saying  con- 
cerning him,  that  the  sun  and  moon  trembled  at  his  sight, 
lest  he  should  send  them  to  shine  upon  a  world  even  wick' 


352 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


eder  than  ours.    The  devil  himself,  with  all  his  pride  and  cun 
ning,  was  nought  but  a  slave  before  this  terrible  magician. 
In  spite  of  all  his  knowledge,  might,  and  wealth,  our  hero 


was  not  hap- 
py. Although  he 
harmed  nobody, 
and  willingly  showed  kind- 
ness to  the  poor,  he  was 
detested  and  shunned  by 
all.  When  he  entered  a 
village  the  women  fled  with 
their  children  in  their  arms, 
and   the   men   shut  them- 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark,  353 

selves  up  in  their  houses  till  he  went  by.  The  only  ones  who 
remained  in  the  streets  were  those  who  had  some  favor  to 
ask  ;  they  bowed  to  the  ground  and  kissed  his  hand,  as 
if  he  had  been  a  lord  ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  turned  his 
back  than  they  cursed  him  in  their  hearts,  or  shook  their 
fists  after  him.  It  is  the  penalty  of  omnipotence  to  be  loved 
by  no  one,  and  to  have  your  footsteps  dogged  by  envy,  mal- 
ice, and  ingratitude. 

Our  magician  had  had  a  sad  experience.  When  young 
he  had  sought  to  marry ;  but,  in  spite  of  his  knowledge  and 
power,  no  one  had  been  willing  to  accept  him  as  a  suitor. 
A  woman  does  not  like  to  have  her  heart  always  laid  bare, 
and  no  girl  is  so  young  as  not  to  know  that  it  is  the  first  re- 
quisite of  a  good  husband  that  he  should  not  be  a  sorcerer. 
The  poor  man  lived  alone,  therefore,  in  an  old  Gothic  manor- 
house,  with  a  great  dog  and  a  black  cat  for  his  sole  compan- 
ions. With  the  first  he  talked  politics,  and  philosophized 
with  the  second.  Let  no  one  be  surprised  to  see  a  feline  phi- 
losopher ;  it  was  long  ago  acknowledged  by  sages  that  the 
finest  systems  of  metaphysics  are  nought  but  pap  for  cats. 

One  stormy  day,  our  sorcerer  amused  himself  by  walk- 
ing upon  the  raging  waters.  The  whistling  wind,  rumbling 
thunder,  and  dashing  breakers  helped  him  to  forget  his  sad 
thoughts.  Suddenly,  by  the  flash  of  the  lightning,  he  saw  a 
sinking  ship,  upon  whose  deck  lay  an  infant  in  its  cradle. 
To  snatch  the  innocent  victim  from  death,  and  bear  it  away  in 
his  arms,  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  The  waves  had  not 
closed  over  the  vessel  before  the  old  man  was  in  his  house, 
lulling  with  ineffable  tenderness  the  child,  who  gazed  in  his 
face  without  fear.  It  was  the  first  time  that  any  human  be- 
ing had  smiled  upon  him.  The  dog  licked  the  tiny  feet 
of  the  new-comer,  happy  to  share  in  his  master's  joy,  while 
the  cat,  with  sphinx-like  gravity,  fixed  his  green  eyes  upon 
23 


354  Z^^/  Fairy  Tales. 

the  stranger,  as  if  about  to  ask  him  some  riddle,  and  devour 
him  if  it  was  not  solved. 

In  this  solitude,  far  from  towns  and  men,  the  orphan  grew 
up  among  the  three  friends  by  whom  he  had  been  adopted. 
Adolf,  as  he  was  named  by  the  sorcerer,  was  no  common 
child,  and  profited  well  by  the  lessons  of  his  masters.  The 
magician  taught  him  the  language  of  birds  and  beasts ;  the 
dog  showed  hirfi  how  to  be  gentle,  patient,  kind,  and  good ; 
as  to  the  cat,  it  was  by  means  of  his  claws  that  he  induct- 
ed into  his  flesh  and  spirit  the  first  principle  of  all  morality, 
"  Do  not  scratch  others,  if  you  wish  them  to  leave  you  with  a 
whole  skin." 

For  sixteen  years  Adolf  lived  happily  with  his  father. 
He  could  not  take  a  step  in  the  great  forests  that  surrounded 
the  old  manor,  without  meeting  friends  and  comrades.  He 
gambolled  with  the  doe's  fawns  around  their  mother ;  he  played 
hot  cockles  with  the  bear  cubs,  and  hide-and-seek  with  the 
rabbits ;  the  ever-anxious  hare  confided  to  him  her  cares  and 
troubles,  and  the  squirrel  taught  him  how  to  climb  the  trees 
and  pick  the  plumpest  nuts.  The  lark,  linnet,  and  thrush 
warbled  their  sweetest  songs  at  his  approach.  Together 
they  leaped,  sang,  and  made  such  an  uproar  that  some  owl, 
disturbed  in  his  slumbers,  would  come,  with  his  round  eyes 
and  hooked  beak,  gravely  to  preach  that  the  day  was  made 
for  sleep,  and  that  stagnation  was  wisdom.  You  should  have 
seen  how  the  troop  of  madcaps  greeted  the  poor  fool,  and 
what  a  noise  they  made  when  he  returned  to  his  hole  in  de- 
spair, carrying  with  him  his  hooting  and  sermonizing. 

In  this  way  Adolf  passed  his  days,  knowing  neither  sorrow 
nor  care.  When  he  returned  home  at  night,  with  sparkling 
eyes  and  flowing  locks,  the  sorcerer  never  tired  of  listening 
to  and  admiring  him.  To  spare  him  a  tear,  he  would  have 
laid  at  his  feet  all  his  learning  and  treasures.     It  is  the  privi- 


"  The  dog  licked  the  tiny  feet  of  the  new-comer,  happy  to  share  in  his 
master's  joj[." 


356 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


lege  of  youth  to  be  loved — an  inestimable  blessing,  of  whose 
value  it  is  ignorant;  as  for  old  age,  its  only  joy  is  in  loving 
and  being  happy  in  the  happiness  of  others. 

Unhappily,  in  the  forests  as  in  the  town,  evil  tongues  are 
always  found,  that  meddle  with  what  does  not  concern  them. 
That  gossip,  the  magpie,  that  goes  prowling  about,  peering 
into  everything,  and  that  can  keep  neither  her  eyes  nor  her 
beak  to  herself,  had  no  sooner  spied  the  handsome  Adolf 
than  she  asked  him,  with  a  pitying  air,  why  he  lived  alone 
in  the  woods  like  a  wolf.  Revel  was  only  six  leagues  away ; 
why  did  he  not  go  to  see  the  walls,  towers,  castle,  and  bell 
of  the  ancient  city  of  Waldemar?  "It  is  true,"  she  added, 
in  her  jargon,  "  that  the  thrushes  are  coquettish  dames  who 
chatter  all  the  time,  but  what  are  they  in  comparison  with 
the  fine  city  belles  who  change  their  plumage  and  their  tune 
every  day?  Then  there  are  the  men  at  the  tavern  at  night, 
with  their  songs,  laughter,  noise,  and  jollity.     He  who  has 


The  Eve  of  St,  Mark. 


357 


People  vege- 


not  seen  all  this  has  lived  with  his  eyes  shut, 
tate  in  the  woods ;  they  live  only  in  the  city." 

Saying  this,  the  magpie 
shook  her  tail,  cocked  up  her 
head,  and  called  on  a  spar- 
row who  had  come  from 
Revel  that  morning  to 
munch  cherries,  to  prove  her 
words.  Friquet,  a  true  cit, 
a  bold  glutton  and  impudent 
braggart,  screeched  in  his 
shrillest  tones  that  it  was  the 
most  shameful  thing  in  the 
world  for  any  one  but  a 
beast  to  live  in  the  woods. 
"  Hurrah  for  the  town  !"  he 
cried;  "where  men  drink 
when  they  are  not  thirsty, 
eat  when  they  are  not  hun- 
gry, and  amuse  themselves 
by  doing  nothing.  They  turn 

day  into  night  there,  and  winter  into  summer ;  it  is  the  land 
of  pleasure  and  liberty.  To  bury  one's  self  in  the  country 
when  one  is  young,  rich,  and  handsome,  is  stupid,  foolish,  and 
wicked." 

"  Unless,"  added  Margot,  the  magpie, "  there  are  those  who 
selfishly  keep  you  at  home,  knowing  that  in  the  town  they 
would  have  to  share  their  treasure  with  delightful  men  and 
lovely  women.  Farewell,  my  dear  Adolf,  you  are  a  good  lit- 
tle boy,  and  your  papa  ought  to  be  very  much  pleased  with 
you.  Come,  Friquet,  there  are  sohv^  charming  people  ex- 
pecting us  in  town ;  we  must  not  tlr2  them  with  waiting  j 
how  could  they  dine  without  us  ?" 


358 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


The  silly  talk  of  these  feather-brained  gossips  threw  poor 
Adolf  into  strange  confusion.  It  was  in  vain  that  his  friends 
the  birds  sang  him  their  merriest  songs,  and  that  the  rabbit 


tried  to  amuse  him  with  his  tricks  and  antics;  the  forest 
seemed  a  desert.  At  the  corner  of  each  path  he  looked  for 
a  human  figure ;  he  felt  the  need  of  mingling  with  beings 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark,  359 

like  himself,  whom  he  had  never  seen  except  in  books  and 
pictures.  Weary  with  this  vain  desire,  he  returned  home 
with  hanging  head  and  dejected  mien.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  felt  unhappy. 

Scarcely  had  he  let  himself  drop  upon  a  seat  when  Caesar, 
the  dog,  looked  at  him  with  anxious  eyes. 

"Adolf,"  said  he,  "something  is  the  matter  with  you." 

The  child  stroked  the  dog  and  did  not  answer. 

Mustache,  the  cat,  who  was  asleep  under  the  stove,  half 
opened  one  eye,  and  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Adolf,"  said  he,  "  something  is  the  matter  with  you." 

Adolf  sighed,  and  did  not  answer. 

The  sorcerer,  who  had  been  listening,  drew  from  his  gir- 
dle a  little  mirror  in  which  he  could  read  men's  thoughts. 
Scarcely  had  he  cast  his  eyes  on  it  when  he  turned  pale. 

"  Adolf,"  he  murmured,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  you  wish  to 
leave  us." 

"  To  leave  you,  father !"  cried  the  child  ;  "  never !  I  am 
so  happy  with  you." 

And  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  sorcerer, "  I  read  your  soul  better 
than  you  can  yourself.  You  are  tired  of  staying  here ;  you 
wish  to  go  to  the  city,  and  live  with  men.  I  had  planned 
for  you  a  happier  lot.  I  wished  to  keep  you  with  me,  and  to 
spare  you  the  bitterness  and  deceptions  of  life.  But  man  can- 
not escape  his  fate.  Go  where  your  heart  calls  you  ;  to- 
morrow you  shall  set  out  for  the  city." 

"  With  you,  father  ?" 

"No,  my  son  ;  at  my  age  and  with  my  experience,  solitude 
alone  is  endurable.  But  you  shall  not  go  alone  ;  I  will  give 
you  companions  that  will  watch  over  you." 

Adolf,  threw  himself,  weeping,  into  his  father's  arms,  and 
vowed  he  would  never  leave  him.     The  sorcerer  embraced 


360  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

him,  and  smiled  mournfully.  An  hour  later,  Adolf  was  asleep 
and  sweetly  dreaming,  while  the  old  man  sat  on  the  foot  of 
the  bed  and,  gazed  at  the  child  through  his  tears. 

II. 

At  sunrise  Adolf  was  ready  to  go.  Three  black  horses 
stood  in  waiting  at  the  castle  gate.  The  handsomest  and 
most  spirited  was  for  him  ;  the  others  were  held  by  two  im- 
posing-looking squires  ;  one,  dressed  in  white,  with  a  cocked 
hat  on  his  head,  was  none  other  than  honest  Caesar,  turned 
into  a  valet ;  while  the  other,  in  black,  with  a  knife  thrust  in 
his  belt,  was  easily  recognized,  by  his  grimace,  as  Mustache, 
with  his  green  eyes,  and  thick,  bristling  coat. 

There  is  nothing  so  sad  as  parting.  Once  on  the  road, 
the  three  friends  proceeded  a  long  way  in  silence.  But  by 
degrees  the  sun  rose  in  the  heavens,  their  tongues  were 
loosened,  and  they  chattered  as  merrily  as  birds.  Caesar 
admired  all  Adolf's  madcap  speeches,  for  he  loved  him ; 
Mustache  grumbled  unceasingly,  and  admired  nothing  in 
the  world  but  himself — he  was  a  philosopher. 

Laughing  and  disputing,  they  passed  through  the  forest, 
and  came  to  the  turn  of  the  road  where  it  entered  the  plain, 
when  Adolf  cried  out,  pointing  to  his  companions  a  strange 
figure,  at  which  he  shuddered.  By  the  side  of  the  road, 
leaning  with  both  hands  on  a  crutch,  and  shaking  all  over, 
was  an  old  woman,  in  rags.  Her  uncombed  gray  locks  fell 
dishevelled  about  her  wrinkled,  yellow  face ;  her  dim  eyes 
were  almost  hidden  under  her  inflamed  eyelids  ;  her  hooked 
nose  and  sharp,  turned-up  chin  nearly  met,  like  the  beaks 
of  two  fighting-cocks,  and  her  mouth,  with  its  toothless  gums, 
babbled  confused  sounds. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  Adolf. 

"  A  gypsy,  a  beggar,  a  thief,"  said  Mustache. 


The  Eve  of  SL  Mark. 


361 


"A  poor  woman 
bowed  down  with  old 
age,"  said  Caesar. 

"What  is  old  age?" 
asked  Adolf,  who  had 
never  seen  anything 
like  this  in  the  forest. 

"Old  age,"  an- 
swered the  senten- 
tious Mustache,  "is 
the  winter  of  life. 
When  the  snow  falls, 

the  trees  shed  their  leaves ;  when  the  hair  turns  white,  man 
sheds  his  teeth,  eyes,  stomach,  and  legs.  It  is  the  law  of 
nature." 

"  And  I  shall  soon  be  like  this  poor  creature,"  sighed  Adolf. 


^7v'K«£^;>-^^=^- 


362  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

"No,  my  son,"  returned  Caesar.  "It  takes  seventy  or 
eighty  years  to  make  an  old  man  of  a  child,  and  you  are 
only  sixteen." 

"  Seventy  years  soon  pass,"  exclaimed  Mustache.  "  As  the 
great  poet  Pindar  sings,  '  Life  is  the  dream  of  a  shadow.' 
An  admirable  saying  for  a  personage  who  was  neither  a  cat 
nor  a  philosopher  by  trade." 

By  Caesar's  advice,  Adolf  flung  some  money  to  the  old 
woman,  then  spurred  on  his  horse  to  escape  this  mournful 
spectacle.  They  rode  fast,  moreover,  for  they  were  beginning 
to  be  hungry,  like  mere  mortals,  and  they  spied  in  the  dis- 
tance the  smoke  of  a  village.  "  At  last,"  thought  Adolf,  "  I 
shall  behold  mankind." 

The  first  house  that  they  came  to  was  a  decent-looking 
inn,  with  a  golden  lion  for  a  sign.  They  called,  but  no 
one  answered.  The  door  stood  half-way  open  ;  they  entered 
the  public  room,  and  knocked  with  their  whips  on  the  table. 
Suddenly,  they  heard  a  groan  in  an  adjoining  chamber. 
Adolf  ran  to  answer  the  plaintive  call,  and  found  himself 
face  to  face  with  a  new  kind  of  misery. 

Upon  a  mattress  on  the  floor  lay  a  young  woman  with  two 
children  in  her  arms,  one  shaking  with  chills,  and  the  other 
burning  with  fever.  The  poor  hollow-eyed  mother  could 
only  stammer  a  few  words  with  her  parched  lips. 

"  Pardon  me,  good  sirs,"  said  she,  "  we  have  the  spring 
fever ;  this  is  the  day  of  the  chills,  and  I  am  not  able  to 
wait  on  you." 

"Is  there  not  another  inn  in  the  village?"  asked  Mus- 
tache. 

"  Yes,  but  do  not  go  there,  good  sir.  Small-pox  is  raging 
in  it  just  now.  The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  hasten  to 
Revel,  for  our  village  is  full  of  the  epidemic.  Excuse  me, 
and  may  God  be  with  you  !" 


The  Eve  of  St,  Mark. 


363 


"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  ?"  cried  Adolf. 

"  Thank  you,  my  lord,"  answered  she ;  "  time  is  the  only 
cure  for  the  sickness  sent  by  Heaven.  We  must  be  re- 
signed." 

Once  out  of  this  gloomy  abode,  Adolf  turned  to  Mustache. 


364 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


"What  is  sickness?"  asked  he.  "I  never  saw  anything 
of  the  kind  among  the  companions  of  my  solitude." 

"In  truth,"  returned  the  green-eyed  philosopher,  "  sickness 
is  the  monopoly  of  man  :  he  alone  has  fevers  and  physicians." 

"  Are  people  often  ill  ?"  asked  Adolf. 

"  That  depends  upon  temperaments,"  replied  Mustache  \ 
"  women  are  ill  all  their  lives,  or  think  that  they  are,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  thing.     As  to  men,  the  healthiest  suf- 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark.  365 

fer  little  except  during  childhood,  old  age,  and  a  part  of 
middle  life." 

"  It  is  frightful !"  cried  the  youth. 

"  Bah  !"  replied  the  philosopher,  "  it  is  the  law  of  human 
nature.  As  yonder  woman  said,  with  excellent  judgment, 
we  must  be  resigned." 

"  Poor  creatures  !"  thought  Adolf.  "  Menaced  with  sick- 
ness and  old  age,  how  you  must  cling  together,  and  help  and 
love  each  other !" 

"  Look  yonder,  master  !"  exclaimed  Caesar. 

Adolf  raised  his  eyes  and  saw  a  crowd  of  peasants,  seated 
around  tables  set  along  the  road.  Each  one  held  a  mug  or 
bottle  in  his  hand ;  some  were  singing  and  others  shouting. 
One  was  dancing  on  the  table  amid  the  clattering  glasses, 
while  his  companions  kept  time  with  him  by  drumming  on 
the  wood  with  their  knives. 

"  What  is  that .?"  asked  Adolf. 

"  A  village  festival,"  answered  Caesar. 

"  Happy  men  !"  sneered  Mustache  ;  "  drunk  and  crazy  !" 

"  At  last,"said  Adolf, "  we  have  found  people  who  enjoy  life." 

As  he  was  speaking,  some  soldiers  marched  along  the 
highway,  and  were  hailed  by  the  revellers.  One  of  them 
answered  with  an  oath,  whereupon  a  bottle  was  flung  at  his 
head.  He  stooped  in  time  to  avoid  the  blow,  and  picked 
up  a  huge  stone,  which  he  hurled  among  the  crowd.  A  sharp 
cry  was  heard  ;  the  stone  had  struck  a  woman  full  in  the 
face,  and  the  blood  was  trickling  down  her  cheeks.  At  the 
sight,  the  drunken  men  fell  in  a  body  upon  the  soldiers, 
arming  themselves  with  whatever  came  to  hand — bottles, 
jugs,  benches,  and  sticks.  The  soldiers  drew  their  swords 
in  self-defence,  and  a  sharp  conflict  followed,  which,  however, 
was  of  short  duration. 

Before  Adolf  could  reach  the  field  of  battle,  two  of  the 


366 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


soldiers,  followed  by  volleys  of  stones,  were  fleeing  towards  the 
town,  loudly  calling  for  help,  and  leaving  their  comrades  on 
the  ground,  lifeless  or  writhing  in  death.  They  were  avenged, 
however,  for  side  by  side  with  them  lay  three  dead  and  sev- 
eral dying  peasants,  while  others  were  carried  off  by  their 
comrades,  who  stanched  their  wounds  while  trying  to  escape 
before  the   soldiers  returned.     The  men  were   sullen  and 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark  367 

angry ;  the  women  shrieking  and  the  children  crying ;  it  was 
a  heart-rending  sight. 

Adolf  threw  himself  on  his  knees  by  the  side  of  a  peasant 
who  had  been  ripped  open  by  a  sabre  thrust,  and  was  wrapped 
in  eternal  slumber,  and  tried  to  question  his  sightless  eyes 
and  speechless  lips. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  asked  he  of  Caesar. 

"  Alas,  master,"  was  the  answer,  "  it  is  death.  This  man's 
sufferings  are  over ;  he  will  never  more  awake." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mustache, "  life  is  a  dream  that  begins  and 
ends  in  nothingness.  Dust  before  birth,  and  dust  after  death. 
Such  are  man  and  his  destiny." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Adolf,  "  is  life  so  easily  lost,  and  yet  do 
men  so  little  respect  this  precious  possession  of  their  fellows?" 

"  Bah  i"  said  Mustache,  "  their  greatest  pleasure  is  to  kill 
each  other.  Nations  hold  in  remembrance  none  but  the  con- 
querors who  slay  them.     Fame  is  bloodshed." 

"  My  friends,"  cried  the  youth,  "  let  us  return  to  my  father. 
I  will  not  go  to  Revel.  As  for  men,  I  have  seen  too  much 
of  them  ;  my  heart  is  broken.  Take  me  back  to  our  forests, 
and  let  me  forget  the  terrible  lesson  I  have  had  to-day." 

III. 

On  hearing  these  words,  Mustache  smiled  grimly  to  him- 
self, and  hastily  turned  back  towards  the  manor.  Caesar 
tried  to  comfort  Adolf,  but  the  youth  hung  his  head  and  paid 
no  heed  to  him.  He  was  crushed  with  grief,  and  his  heart 
was  overflowing  with  bitterness.  He  was  tired  of  men,  but 
solitude  appalled  him.  On  the  word  of  two  chattering  birds, 
he  had  pictured  to  himself  a  world  full  of  enchantment ;  he 
bad  had  a  delightful  dream,  and  at  sixteen  it  is  not  easy  to 
renounce  these  sweet  illusions. 

While  Csesar  and  Mustache  galloped  on,  each  seeking  to 


368 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


be  the  first  to  tell 
the  sorcerer  of 
his  child's  return, 
Adolf  pensively 
followed  the  path 
that  he  had  trod- 
den so  gayly  in 
the  morning. 
Night  was  falling, 
and  the  shadows 
deepened  his  sad- 
ness. 

"What  is   the 
matter,    Adolf?" 
murmured  a  gen- 
tle voice.     "  Has  anything  gone  wrong  with  you  ?" 

The  youth  raised  his  head,  and  saw  a  nightingale  perched 
upon  a  twig. 

"  Good  -  evening,  dear  bird,"  said  he,  "why  are  you  not 
singing  as  usual?  Is  your  heart  wrung  like  mine?  Perhaps 
you  too  have  seen  mankind?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  nightingale,  "  I  am  not  singing  to- 
night, because  I  am  saving  myself  for  a  great  occasion. 
This  is  the  eve  of  St.  Mark ;  and  I  am  keeping  my  voice  to 
serenade  the  one  I  love." 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark,  369 

"  Alas !"  said  Adolf,  "  she  whom  you  love  cannot  escape 
sickness,  old  age,  or  death." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  returned  the  nightingale: 
"the  fairies  of  the  night  are  immortal;  their  youth  and 
beauty  never  fade.'* 

"  Are  they  good  ?"  asked  the  youth. 

"  They  are  goodness  itself.  Their  hearts  are  full  of  pity 
for  all  who  suffer  here  below." 

"  I  must  see  them,"  cried  Adolf. 

"  My  handsome  friend,"  said  the  nightingale,  "  they  are 
only  to  be  seen  once  a  year,  on  the  eve  of  St.  Mark,  and  to 
reach  their  dwelling  without  danger,  you  must  have  wings." 

"  Oh,  nightingale,  dear  nightingale,"  cried  the  youth,  "  take 
me  with  you.  Show  me  the  way  to  them.  Do  not  refuse 
me,  if  you  love  me." 

"  My  child,"  returned  the  nightingale,  "I  fear  I  have  talked 
too  much.  We  birds  have  more  feathers  than  brains.  For- 
get my  gossiping,  and  forgive  me." 

But  Adolf  insisted  so  warmly,  and  with  so  many  prayers 
and  tears,  that  the  nightingale  said,  shaking  his  head, 

"  My  child,  my  child,  there  is  danger  in  knowing  too  much. 
Many  things  are  hid  from  man's  eyes  for  his  happiness.  If 
ever  you  see  the  fairies,  farewell  to  your  peace  of  mind  ;  the 
world  that  delights  you  will  be  nought  but  a  desert,  and  you 
will  pass  your  life  in  regretting  a  vanished  dream." 

"  No,  no,  dear  bird,"  cried  the  youth  ;  "  away  with  this  mis- 
taken pity.  If  I  do  not  see  the  fairies  this  night,  nothing  is 
left  me  but  to  die.     Grant  my  prayer,  and  save  my  life." 

"  If  that  is  so,"  said  the  nightingale,  "  I  will  tell  you  what 
to  do  j  but  the  danger  is  great  and  the  success  doubtful. 

"  Know,  then,  that  every  year,  on  the  eve  of  St.  Mark,  at 
midnight,  the  King  of  the   Serpents   holds   high    court   in 
the  great  marsh  where  the  water-lilies  grow.     A  golden  cup, 
24  ,««_ 


370  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

filled  with  the  milk  of  the  goats  of  the  sky,  is  then  offered  him. 
If  you  can  seize  the  cup  and  drink  a  draught  of  this  magic 
milk,  your  eyes  will  be  opened,  and  you  will  see  all  that 
night  hides  with  its  sable  cloak  from  the  eyes  of  mortals. 
But  remember  that  all  the  serpents  in  the  world  will  be  at 
this  meeting,  and  that  one  of  their  bites  will  kill  you." 

"They  cannot  be  worse  than  men,"  rejoined  Adolf, "and, 
besides,  what  have  I  to  fear  from  death?  I  have  lost  all 
relish  for  life." 

And  with  these  words  he  leaped  from  his  horse,  threw  the 
reins  on  its  neck,  and  plunged  into  the  forest. 

IV. 

When  Adolf  reached  the  great  water-lily  marsh  after  a 
long  walk,  he  found  nothing  there  but  silence  and  darkness. 
Although  it  was  spring,  he  thought  he  saw  by  the  light  of 
the  stars  that  the  grass  had  just  been  cut.  Piles  of  new- 
mown  hay  were  lying  here  and  there,  as  in  harvest -time, 
otherwise  all  was  unchanged ;  nothing  was  stirring,  and  our 
hero  began  to  think  that  a  trick  had  been  played  on  him, 
when  a  distant  clock  slowly  struck  midnight.  Immediately 
a  strange  light  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  marsh,  looking 
like  a  star  fallen  from  heaven.  Adolf  approached  this  ap- 
parition, when  the  turf  around  him  seemed  crawling  like  an 
ant-hill.  What  he  had  taken  for  heaps  of  grass  were  thou- 
sands of  serpents  asleep  on  the  ground,  that  had  awakened 
at  the  summons  of  their  lord  and  were  hastening  to  pay 
him  homage. 

The  youth's  surprise  may  well  be  imagined,  but  it  was  too 
late  to  draw  back.  All  that  he  could  do  was  to  keep  in  the 
shade,  and  follow  this  multitude,  crawling  silently  onward. 
Ere  long,  he  saw  an  enormous  dragon,  wearing  on  its  head 
a  crown  of  emeralds  and  rubies,  the  lustre  of  which  lighted 


'  When  Adolf  reached  the  great  water-lily  marsh,  he  found  nothing 
there  but  silence  and  darkness." 


372  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

the  forest  afar  off.  It  was  his  majesty,  the  King  of  the  Ser- 
pents. Around  him,  like  courtiers  vying  with  each  other 
for  the  smile  of  their  prince,  thronged  adders,  asps,  vipers, 
and  serpents  of  all  sizes  and  colors,  entangled  together,  all 
stretching  up  their  turgid  necks,  and  darting  out  their  forked 
tongues,  hissing  loudly.  The  noise  was  deafening,  and  the 
sight  one  that  might  have  frozen  the  boldest  heart  with  terror. 

We  would  not  venture  to  say  that  our  hero  was  not 
frightened  \  but  at  the  sight  of  the  golden  cup  he  forgot  his 
terror.  Without  thinking  of  danger,  he  threw  himself  like  a 
madman  into  this  host  of  serpents,  more  numerous  and 
closely  serried  than  the  blades  of  grain  in  a  wheat -field, 
rushed  to  the  cup,  seized  it,  drained  it  at  a  draught,  and 
flung  it  far  from  him.  Then,  feeling  escape  impossible,  he 
folded  his  arms,  and  awaited  death. 

To  his  great  joy,  however,  the  dragon  snatched  the  cup 
and  fled  with  it.  The  whole  army  of  serpents  followed  their 
chief  with  frightful  hisses.  Adolf  found  himself  alone  in  the 
forest,  where  all  again  was  silent.  His  heart  had  not  yet 
ceased  to  throb  loudly,  when  he  heard  the  first  notes  of  the 
nightingale.  The  bird  had  not  deceived  him;  the  fairies 
were  coming. 


The  moon  rose,  illumining  the  forest  with  its  silver  light. 
Our  hero  looked  around  him.  The  marsh  was  transformed 
into  a  glade  carpeted  with  moss ;  the  trees  were  covered 
with  leaves,  and  violets  were  blossoming  everywhere.  In 
the  distance,  Adolf  caught  glimpses  of  light  figures  flitting 
through  the  forest  like  sylphs  floating  over  the  turf. 

There  was  no  more  doubt,  they  were  the  fairies  of  the 
night.  How  beautiful  they  were,  in  their  white  drapery, 
clasped  on  one  shoulder,  their  hair  carelessly  knotted  be 


**  They  skimmed  over  the  moss  without  touching  it." 


374 


Last  Fairy  Tales, 


hind,  and  their  arms  and  feet  bare,  as  they  skimmed  over 
the  moss  without  touching  it ! 

On  reaching  the  place  of  rendezvous,  each  was  eagerly 
questioned  by  her  companions.  Adolf  listened  with  de- 
light to  the  soft  murmur  of  their  voices,  sweeter  than  the 
babbling  of  the  forest  brooks. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  sister,  where  have  you  been?" 


■V?- 


'*  I  have  been  to  the  red  house,  where  poor  old  Bridget  had 
fa^en  asleep  over  her  spinning-wheel,  exhausted  with  toil, 
and  forgetting  that  she  would  have  no  bread  for  to-morrow 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark  375 

if  her  task  was  not  done.  I  sat  in  iier  lap,  took  her  distaff 
in  my  hand,  turned  her  wheel,  and  spun  thread  enough  for  a 
whole  week." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  sister  \  where  have  you  been  ?" 
"  I  have  been  to  the  little  cabin  by  the  sea-shore,  where  a 
poor  woman  has  been  waiting  for  a  year  for  her  husband  to 
come  home  from  sea.     Yesterday  I  spied  his  ship  off  the 
coast ;  I  showed  him  to  her  in  a  dream,  smiling,  and  saying, 
*  Patience,  dear  love,  in  three  days  I  will  be  in  your  arms.'  " 
"  Where  have  you  been,  sister ;  where  have  you  been  ?" 
"  I  have  been  to  the  shop  of  Harold,  the  money-lender. 
For  three  nights  past  I  have  scratched  on  the  wall  like  a 
mouse,  and  cried  in  his  ear,  'Look  to  your  treasure,  the 
robbers  are  here ! '     He  shall  not  sleep  who  shows  no  pity 
to  the  poor." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  sister  ;  where  have  you  been  ?" 
"  I  have  been  to  the  cottage  of  Wilhelm,  the  gamekeeper. 
The  poor  man  lost  his  wife  nine  months  ago,  and  when  he 
makes  his  rounds  at  night,  the  house  is  left  alone.  I  found 
the  baby  crying,  and  about  to  fall  from  its  bed.  I  took  it 
in  my  arms  and  sung  it  a  lullaby,  upon  which  it  smiled  at 
me  as  if  I  had  been  its  mother,  and  fell  asleep." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  sister ;  where  have  you  been  ?" 
"  I  have  been  to  the  house  of  the  rich  Gustaf,  who  has  no 
mercy  on  his  tenants.  I  found  him  snoring  in  an  arm-chair, 
drunk  with  wine  and  his  newly-gotten  wealth.  I  set  all  the 
candles  ablaze,  upon  which  he  tumbled  on  the  floor  in  af- 
fright, crying  *  Fire  !'  Let  his  castle  burn  ;  it  will  teach  him 
that  the  great  have  need  of  the  small  here  below." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  sister ;  where  have  you  been  ?" 
"  I  have  been  to  the  green  cottage,  where  Matilda  is  mourn- 
ing the  loss  of  her  child.     I  gave  it  back  to  her  in  a  dream, 
and  she  will  hold  it  in  her  arms  until  daybreak.     When  she 


376  Last  Fairy  Tales. 

awakes,  she  will  doubtless  weep ;  but  she  will  know  that  her 
child  is  still  living  in  the  unseen  world,  and  hope  will  spring 
up  anew  in  her  heart." 

At  this  moment  the  nightingale  greeted  the  moon  at  the 
zenith  with  his  sweetest  song.  The  fairies  joined  hands  in 
a  circle,  and  danced  around,  singing,  in  low  tones, 

*♦  When  summer  days  die, 
All  who  breathe,  all  who  sigh, 
Come  under  our  sceptre, 

The  dark  world  we  keep. 
Then  mortals,  poor  children, 
Wake  not  nor  weep, 
Sleep,  all  of  you,  sleep ; 
We  will  watch  over  you, 

Watch  we  will  keep ! 

"  Silence  rules  the  vast  land 
While  we  dance,  hand  in  hand, 
And  through  the  dance  murmur 

Our  songs  soft  and  deep. 
Then  mortals,  poor  children, 
Wake  not  nor  weep, 
Sleep,  all  of  you,  sleep ; 
We  will  watch  over  you. 

Watch  we  will  keep." 

The  round  finished,  the  fairies  separated  into  different 
groups.  Some  seated  themselves  on  the  grass,  and  gathered 
the  violets,  primroses,  and  white  strawberry  blossoms  that 
grew  about  them ;  while  others  danced  in  couples,  to  the 
music  of  their  companions'  song : 

"  We  are  the  voices. 
And  all  the  sweet  noises. 

Of  the  wind  in  the  tree  ; 
And  where  perfumes  and  shad(  v?s 
Chase  over  the  meadows. 
The  zephyrs  are  we. 


The  Eve  of  SL  Mark.  377 

**  We  are  the  lightning 
That,  darkling  and  brightening, 

Furrows  all  the  thick  night. 
And  the  marsh  fires  we  are, 
That,  glancing  afar. 

Shake  the  shepherd  with  fright 

♦*  In  the  starbeam  that  nightly 
Some  great  sail  leads  lightly 

O'er  the  bitter,  salt  wave, 
Our  torches  are  burning. 
To  clear  lustre  turning 

Seas  dark  as  the  grave. 

**  In  bell  tones  whose  sweetness 
Clangs  out  day's  completeness 

We  dwell  with  delight ; 
We  the  plash  of  the  stream, 
And  we,  too,  the  dream 
That  is  born  of  the  night. 

"  We,  murmurs  eternal, 
We,  whispers  supernal, 

We,  smiles  of  the  skies. 
Charm  all  sadness  away 
From  a  world  far  too  gray, 

Far  too  old,  far  too  wise  !" 

Intoxicated  by  these  magic  songs  and  dances,  Adolf,  for- 
getting all  prudence,  quitted  his  retreat  and  approached  the 
fairies.  One  of  them — the  most  graceful  of  all — passed  so 
near  him  that  she  touched  him  with  her  dress.  Adolf  madly 
seized  her  hand.  The  fairy  turned  round  sharply,  but  sadly 
smiled  on  seeing  the  trembling  youth. 

"Poor  child,"  she  murmured,  "you  would  have  it  so." 
Leaving  her  hand  in  Adolf  s,  she  looked  at  him,  burst  into 
tears,  and  kissed  his  forehead.     He  felt  a  thrill  run  through 
his  veins,  and  swooned  away. 


37S 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


VI. 

When  he  regained  consciousness,  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens.  He  looked  around  him  with  astonishment.  On 
his  left  was  Csesar,  trying  to  warm  him  with  his  breath ;  on 
his  right  sat  Mustache,  washing  his  own  face. 

"  Imprudent  boy,"  cried  Caesar,  "  why  did  you  stay  so  late 
OD  the  marsh  ?  The  night  cold  has  chilled  you  through.  If 
you  knew  how  anxious  your  father  is  about  you !" 

"  Caesar,  my  good  Caesar,"  exclaimed  Adolf,  "  where  are 
the  fairies  ?     I  must  see  them  again." 

"  He  is  raving,"  said  the  grave  Mustache.  "  Just  as  I 
expected.  It  is  the  effort  of  nature  to  bring  back  the 
warmth  by  an  increase  of  the  vital  force." 


The  Eve  of  St  Mark,  379 

«  Mustache,"  cried  Adolf,  «  where  are  the  fairies  ?    I  have 
seen  them  ;  I  must  see  them  again." 
"  What  fairies  ?" 

"  The  fairies  of  the  night ; 

the  invisible  ones." 

-?   ^^  "  How  can  you  see  what 

^''  I  /      ^^  invisible  ?"  returned  the 

cat ;  "  the  idea  is  unphilo- 

sophical." 

"  Caesar,  my  friend,"  said 

Adolf,  "  let  us  return  to  my 

father ;  he  alone 

can   understand 

my  trouble." 

"  I    will    run 


and  tell  my  master  to  send  some  way  of  carrying  you  home," 
exclaimed  Mustache;  "for,  judging  by  your  pale  face,  my 
poor  boy,  you  are  not  able  to  set  one  foot  before  the  other. 


380  Last  Fairy  Tales, 

If  you  had  had  the  wisdom  to  listen  to  my  lessons  in  phi- 
losophy, you  would  never  have  lost  yourself  in  the  woods, 
chasing  a  will-o'-the-wisp ;  you  would  have — " 

"  Adolf,"  said  Caesar,  "  put  your  arms  round  my  neck, 
and  try  to  climb  on  my  back,  as  you  used  to  do  when  a 
child.  Perhaps  I  shall  have  strength  enough  to  carry  you 
home." 

It  was  in  this  style  that  our  hero  returned  to  the  old 
manor,  and  was  deposited  in  the  sorcerer's  great  arm-chair. 
His  father  felt  very  much  like  scolding  him,  but  was 
seized  with  deep  anxiety  on  seeing  him  so  trembling  and 
dejected. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  son  ?"  cried  he,  folding  him  in 
his  arms. 

"  Father,  where  are  the  fairies  ?  I  have  seen  them,  and  I 
must  see  them  again." 

"  Curses  on  them  I"  cried  the  sorcerer  \  "  they  have  stolen 
away  my  child !  My  dear  Adolf,  ask  anything  my  art  can 
procure.  Would  you  have  gold?  I  will  make  you  so  rich 
that  men  will  grovel  on  their  knees  before  you  and  kiss  the 
ground  you  tread  on.  Are  you  ambitious  ?  I  will  give  you 
a  kingdom ;  twenty  of  them,  if  you  like.  You  shall  be  sur- 
rounded with  smiling  faces  \  men  shall  applaud  all  your 
whims,  and  women  shall  crowd  around  you  to  win  a  glance 
from  your  eyes.  The  world  is  mine ;  it  shall  be  yours ;  I 
lay  it  at  your  feet  \  but  my  power  does  not  extend  beyond 
this  world  ;  do  not  ask  me  for  what  belongs  to  another." 

"  Father,  I  want  but  one  thing — again  to  see  the  invisible 
fairies." 

"  Alas !"  cried  the  sorcerer,  "  of  what  use  is  all  my  power 
and  knowledge  ?  The  heart  of  a  child  has  desires  that  the 
empire  of  the  world  will  not  satisfy." 

"  Father  1"  cried  the  youth,  "  I  see  them !  I  hear  them  I 


The  Eve  of  St.  Mark,  381 

Listen  to  the  heavenly  melodies."     And  he  murmured  in  a 

faint  voice : 

"  Then  mortals,  poor  children, 
"Wake  not  nor  weep. 
Sleep,  all  of  you,  sleep ; 
We  will  watch  over  you, 
Watch  we  will  keep  !" 

"  Adolf,  my  child,  be  yourself  again !"  cried  the  old  man, 
pressing  his  son  to  his  heart. 

"  Look,  father,  she  is  there !  Do  you  see  her  ?  She 
smiles  on  me  ;  she  calls  me !  This  time,  she  herself  stretches 
out  her  hand  to  me.  'Poor  child!'  she  says,  'you  would 
have  it  so.'  Yes,  I  would  indeed.  Oh,  fairies,  my  sisters,  I 
cannot  live  without  you.  Wait  for  me ;  I  am  coming,  I  am 
coming !" 

A  smile  flitted  over  his  pale  face,  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  and  tried  to  rise,  then  his  head  fell  back  in  the  chair, 
and  all  was  over, 

VIL 

The  old  manor  has  long  been  in  ruins.  The  ivy  has  in- 
vaded everything,  even  to  the  dilapidated  roof,  and  a  great 
oak  has  pushed  its  boughs  through  the  front  steps.  For 
more  than  a  century  this  gloomy  abode  has  been  inhabited 
only  by  flocks  of  ravens,  with  here  and  there  a  solitary  os- 
prey ;  yet  the  peasants  never  willingly  pass  its  abandoned 
walls  after  nightfall.  It  is  said  that  groans  are  heard  to  is- 
sue from  the  turrets  at  night,  and  that  fiery  eyes  blaze  there 
through  the  darkness.  The  sorcerer  is  not  forgotten,  and  at 
evening,  when  the  doors  are  closed,  men  still  talk  of  Adolf 
and  the  fairies  whose  sight  was  death  to  him.  Whether  this 
is  history  or  legend,  he  would  be  bold,  indeed,  who  would 
venture  to  aver.     The  sages  of  our  day  believe  only  in  what 


382 


Last  Fairy  Tales. 


they  can  see  or  touch.  For  my  part,  not  being  a  sage,  all 
that  a  long  life  has  taught  me  is  that  there  is  nothing  true  in 
this  world  but  what  we  do  not  see.  God  grant  that,  like 
Adolf,  I  may  some  day  behold  the  unseen,  were  it  only  to 
forget  for  a  moment  what  I  cannot  avoid  seeing  here  on 
<iarth. 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 
University  of  California  Library 

or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

University  of  California 

Richmond  Field  Station,  BIdg.  400 

1301  South  46th  Street 

Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

To  renew  or  recharge  your  library  materials,  you  may 

contact  NRLF  4  days  prior  to  due  date  at  (510)  642-6233 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

jAN  29  20031 


DD20  12M  7-07 


(ieneral  LiDrary 
LD2lA-60m-6,'69  University  of  California 

(J9096sl0)476-A-32  Berkelev 


M4i 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


